Hovering on the Brink
by Kara-El
Summary: CHAPTER 26 SWEETHEART After SR, after Richard, Lois and Superman face an uncertain future because of their past. Rated T for language, and mature, not adult, themes. Does a Rose by any other Name smell as sweet?
1. A Drink of Water

_I have spent most of the day putting in a comma and the rest of the day taking it out. **Oscar Wilde** (paraphrased)_

PS If you write, you are a writer. Let no one tell you different:)

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SUMMARY

After SR, after Richard, Lois and Superman face an uncertain future because of their past. Rated T for mild language and mature but not adult themes.

Disclaimer: Superman and his fellow characters are the property of Warner Bros. Studios and DC Comics, and created by Joe Shuster and Jerry Siegel. The fact that Clark lives in my basement is beside the point.

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**Hovering on the Brink**

1. A Drink of Water

Superman perches on Lois's tiny wrought iron patio chair, incongruous in his cape and unreadable in expression, but for a slight tilt to his lips which betrays his pleasure at being in Lois's presence. She wonders if he is aware of this transparency.

Lois's chair squeals and creaks, Superman's is silent.

_Is he sitting… or hovering? Lois… wake up girl – you asked him here._

"Do… you want something to… drink? Or …eat," she blurts – flashing back to a moment in time on this same balcony six years before. The same apartment complex -- the same damn apartment -- cements into fact, the fear she's carried for five years – that her marriage with Richard was never to be.

Superman's voice, steel wrapped in velvet, pulls her up from her drowning depths.

"I would… like a glass of water, Lois, if it's not too much trouble."

He holds her gaze a tad too long for her comfort.

_Don't distract me, damn it._

Or, perhaps, she was the one holding it.

_Somebody held it. I can't stand this, like ping pong. A stupid game, with stupid, little, white, stupid balls…_

She continues to look at him, her expression guarded; her heart guarded -- steel mesh, forged through years of dearth of contact and lack of intimacy with the man-alien she once believed was her soul mate.

"Lois?"

"Huh?"

"Water?"

"Water, uh yeah, on it." Lois stumbles to the kitchen, her thoughts tumbling and tripping her up on the way.

She opens the sticky cabinet door, the stale old-man's-apartment smell assailing her, and she promises herself for the tenth time, since she moved in last month, that she'll make a trip to IKEA… soon.

_He smiles like he has a secret – a BIG secret -- I'm sure of it. _

The one glass she finds at the back of the shelf leaps out of her hand, and she catches it before it smashes in the sink.She stashes it back in the cupboard and chooses a plastic cup – _Just in case._

Lois grabs a dishtowel from the drawer, runs the cold water and clutches the metal faucet, the chill welcome to her too-warm palms. She wets the cloth, wrings it out, and lays it on the back of her neck as she leans into the sink, faintly nauseous.

_Why do I feel so angry?_

At that moment, a warm hand presses her shoulder blade.

Lois starts, and rips the cloth off of her neck.

"Lois, are you okay… your heart rate shot up, and I thought…"

_I hate that I never hear him approach – no, I love that. _

"I'm alright, just dizzy – I lost my balance."

Twisting the rag in her hands, she feels trapped, and focuses on the cold water that seeps through her fingers and drips on the tile.

Superman turns her to face him, takes her hands in his, and massages them dry. He absorbs her shivers and suffuses her with his heat; to her consternation, without enfolding her in his arms._ You'd think I was made of Kryptonite, the way he literally holds me at arm's length -- Like I'm dangerous._

"So cold, Lois -- why would you want to be cold? You never have to be cold, with me around. I could always be around…"

"Last week, Richard told Perry I have a heart of stone." _Or, I only have a heart for steel Perhaps the difference is moot – whatever, I broke his heart for sure. _

_Then, there's Jason… why I have to talk to Superman, why I'm chained to a man I can't trust, with invisible links, invisibly forged… _

_Stay focused, Lois._

Squirming out of his grasp to busy herself with the task of filling the plastic cup, Lois turns back to face the famous shield, and holds the flimsy chalice between them. Superman takes it and drains it in one draft, while Lois watches his throat work.

"Do you need water?" She asks, snatching the cup out of his hand too quickly. He tilts his head and thinks before he answers, looking down for a second before meeting her eyes.

"Uh, I seem to – but I never thought about it much. My mom always says I have a hollow leg where apple juice is concerned."

"Mother?" Lois gulps, and the cup cracks in her hand.

"I'll take that," he smoothly intones, meaning to set it on the counter, but, as he reaches around her, he freezes in place.

"Thanks," Lois utters -- her face flushing, and her focus lingering on the heated brush of his arm in contact with hers.

Superman chews his lip, and Clark/blurts "W-well, anyway -- you've got plenty," and indicates her cupboard full of plastic cups and paper plates.

Lois squints at him.

_Something… just there… _

Now his turn to blush, Superman bends down to hide his face, and tosses the ruined cup in the trash under the sink, his soft black hair falling before his eyes like wet silk in the fluorescent light.

…_and there…_

With a minute shake of her head, Lois mumbles, "Disposable's a lot easier when you're a single working mom."

Superman nods, serious, "I guess that makes me a single working dad."

Lois, inexplicably near tears, swipes her eyes with the dish cloth, and waves her free hand at her meagre kitchen, "… besides, most of the good stuff was…"

"Richard's," Superman finishes in a gentle rumble.

Bringing his warm palms up to cup her shoulders, he smiles, catches her eyes, and in a teasing tone says, "I think you're wrong Lois, I see some good stuff right here that he doesn't own -- that no one can own."

The air caught between them slows time, as the knowledge of what could be blazes in Superman's unfathomable cerulean gaze. Lois feels faint, but the moment dissipates like smoke, and Superman blinks. Swift as a hummingbird, he moves back, and squints in the direction of the door.

"Jason's back."

"He shouldn't see you here... not yet."

TBC

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All reviews are appreciated, read, and replied to ASAP. I love dialogue with other writers; we all can learn so much from each other about this craft.


	2. A Voice in Space

Thanks for all the lovely reviews. Hard to believe you like this so much. I'm just flailing in the void here with Superman and Lois.

Disclaimer: Superman and his fellow characters are the property of Warner Bros. Studios and DC Comics, and created by Joe Shuster and Jerry Siegel. The fact that Clark eats a lot -- and drives up my grocery bill -- is beside the point.

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2. A Voice in Space

Superman hovers above the penthouse, and watches Lois's son -- _my son -- _rush into her arms.

"Can I call daddy after supper, mom?"

A pang of wistful want settles in Kal-El's gut as he hangs, motionless, above the apartment building.

_Richard. I thought he would be a real father for Jason, like my dad was for me. _

Rising up through the haze, arms free and stretched out to the sides, his face to the heavens, Kal-El ascends. As he cleaves the clouds, the water droplets coalesce on his body like a jewelled cloak.

_I was so wrong about him – he hurt Lois, and she's so… vulnerable right now. _

Turning in a slow spiral in the stratosphere, Superman is in his element -- like a sea creature savouring the salt-water ocean.

His mind floats back to that moment when it all fell apart.

_-- or came together… if I can allow myself to be selfish, for once. Fat chance, Kal. This can't be about me – no matter how much I want it… her. _

_Lois._

_Richard, you had no idea. It was all about you._

"**He's not my son, Superman. He's not even human… how am I supposed to relate to him? …And Lois – to her I'm a placeholder… for you. I'm… convenient. She doesn't love me."**

**The slam of the door signalled Lois's return from the grocery store, and the produce on the floor, mingled with spattered eggs and apple juice, signalled just how much she'd overheard.**

"**Richard – he was your son for five years – how can you…" and Lois promptly fainted, in a heap, amidst the groceries. **

_She did love you Richard. She loved you, before she couldn't forgive you for not accepting Jason. She loved you, before you couldn't forgive her for having him -- my alien son. She did love you, so where does this leave me?_

Flying… defying gravity, is natural – as innate as breathing -- yet Superman reaches 110 kilometres -- beyond the Karman line -- before he realizes he has been holding his breath. He exhales, and some of the tension built up in Lois's apartment leaves him, but her heartbeat resounds in his ears, and her image glows behind his closed eyelids. He can escape from earth's gravity, but cannot release himself from the hold of one tiny human being, named Lois.

His unhappy reverie over -- eyes sleepy and half-closed -- Kal-El dreams of sunlight -- only instinct driving and guiding his upward motion; completely unaware how much this respite is a relief to his system -- near as good as the two hours sleep per night he should get, but usually doesn't because of his self-induced schedule of service to the human race.

Stretching his arms up and arching his back, he yawns, rubs his tearing eyes to clear them, and notices a piece of space junk that floats past. He squints and focuses a narrow beam of heat vision at its centre, and the 6-metre plate, that was once a portion of the hull of a soviet satellite, disintegrates in a soundless puff of molecules.

As he passes through the thermosphere, his impulse to take a deep breath is thwarted by the vacuum of space and he laughs, a breathless cry; what would have been a deep, self-deprecating rumble, if there were any air to carry vibration to produce sound.

_That was embarrassing._

Floating on his back, the last son of Krypton spends a distracted few minutes zapping spacesuit gloves, flakes of paint, shuttle tiles and bolts. At one point, he absently pushes up his non-existent glasses, and realizes he's hypnotized, like Jimmy Olsen playing spider solitaire on his computer in the middle of a slow news day.

_Enough. Humans screw up their environment to the point of dumping millions of pounds of bits of space garbage, that orbit the planet at speeds of up to 17,000 miles per hour. I'm not going to spend my whole evening playing space-junk invaders. I have things more important to attend to…_

Lying back, Kal-El closes his eyes, and listens.

-- _Heartbeats…10 metre square segments… triangulate… rate… number…** "rampart… 1017 at 4th and Reeve -- all units respond" …**that's a four-alarm –_

_**VHEE VFHEEE FVEEE FFEEVEE**_

_-- O…kay… wait, that sound wasn't… from Earth._

Superman opens his eyes, turns toward the noise, and, with dawning dread, realizes the source -- the abomination that Lois -- his Lois – has named 'New Krypton.'

He rotates to face it, automatically steeling himself for an attack. The effects from the kryptonite radiation are weak, owing to the great distance, but nagging -- like a toothache. He frowns. _Why didn't I notice that till now? _

Superman strains his vision through, and beyond, the deadly meteor rock – to see if he can ascertain anything. the images are distorted and blurry; all he can make out are twisted crystal formations and green shards, fused in a perverted and deadly union.

_Not Krypton – new or old – more like… Hell._

The unyielding sound, steady and repetitive like a shrill Morse code, intensifies to a level where Superman grimaces with discomfort, and tries to filter the cacophony by concentrating.

_It must be the crystals, calling to me – or, worse, deteriorating. But why now? Was I too far away to sense it before – or too incapacitated ? _

_Dear God… it's closer. _

Superman remembers the crater in the park, a result of his plummeting to earth, and his eyes widen in horror.

_I'd hoped – but… of course, all orbits decay, and most small objects burn up on re-entry, but this… atrocity… is massive… _

_...and it's falling. _

TBC

Please review -- I want to know what you think -- reviews are lifesavers for a drowning writer

-- and I don't mean the little candy with a hole in the middle (though those are good too).


	3. OneTrack Mind

Don't know how long I can keep up this update pace, but the ideas are flowing like cool water, and I can't seem to quench my thirst for this Superguy and his story.

Disclaimer: Superman and his fellow characters are the property of Warner Bros. Studios and DC Comics, and created by Joe Shuster and Jerry Siegel. The fact that Clark tracks Arctic ice and snow through my house -- in the middle of July -- is beside the point.

3. One-Track Mind

Lex Luthor sits, gloating, before a three-way vanity mirror, ensconced in his lead-lined ocean-side lair in Maceio, Brazil. The temperature in the room is an uncomfortable 82 degrees - the way he likes it. He smirks at his reflection, and runs his hand over his scalp.

Kitty Kowalski wanders in carrying an oversize martini glass filled with olives, her inevitable Oxycontin-enhanced mood dimly brightening her makeup-smudged eyes.

_Gawd, it's hot in here – just so he won't have goose bumps from a chill pimpling up the smooth stretch of his bald dome. _

She fingers one of the array of wigs on the marble vanity, "Lex, why do you never wear your hair at home?" _Like this one, black, long, soft… mmm, reminds me of... _

He raises his eyebrows at Kitty and reaches for a Cohiba Piramides, his favourite Havana cigar. He looks at her and, frowning, snips the end off of the stogie. He doesn't answer her till he's fulfilled his cigar prepping ritual and settled in for a long drag.

"It itches – besides this is my best look, au natural. You love it."

Kitty smiles at him. _I hate it. _

Flicking ash on the floor, Lex saunters toward the villa's balcony, overlooking the ocean, and opens the French patio doors with a grandiose flourish. The heavy salt sea air, and rhythmic ocean sound, has a sedative effect on the odd couple and the mood relaxes. Kitty slinks over to lean on his shoulder, and he smiles down at her with what looks like real affection. Taking her hand, as if to lead her to dance, he walks with her to a large telescope mounted at the far end of the terrace.

Winking at her, he squints and looks into the eyepiece, focusing it on New Krypton, which looms into view. Lex points up at the crystalline satellite, naked-eye visible high in the azure sky, and prompts Kitty to look through the telescope.

"That Super-fink is finished this time, Kitty. New Krypton's orbit is decaying and, by my calculations, it will be tucked back in the Pacific Ocean off the coast of California by this time," looking at his watch with a flourish of his wrist, "ooh, next week."

Her mood spoiled, Kitty frowns, and squints through the eyepiece.

"My name is Katherine. I want a new dog."

_And, a new boyfriend -- one that's cute._

"Yes, let's get a new dog, shall we? This time, one that's more than a mouthful."

Kitty grimaces, her eyes water. She may cry again, but not right now. _I think I hate you today, Lex. _Her voice rises, reaching a wail, echoing in the cool night air. "No, I want one just the same -- a Pom –- or I'm leaving, and I mean it this time."

Lex purses his lips in mock disappointment.

"Now, Kitty, uh Katherine, don't say you'll leave –- you know it hurts me –- cuts me -- to the quick. Of course, you can have a new dog. Once Superman is dead, we'll go puppy shopping. I promise."

"Dead?" _I'd be dead if he hadn't… _"Lex?"

"I like that name – 'New Krypton'. Lois's idea too – what a girl, what a girl; she'll never get over his death, what with his kid, and the continent, reminding her. I love it."

_Here goes nothing, Katherine Kowalski who was gonna be on Broadway. Let this count… please. _Kitty affects a casual tone, her performance marred insignificantly by the Oxy."I think you're wrong about the boy." _Hope this works. _

"What?"

"I think you're wrong." _C'mon, buy it._

"Wrong?"

"I'm not saying it again -– you heard me. The kid has allergies. He didn't react to the Kryptonite.

"He flinched."

"You scared the shit out of him."

"I am... scary –- in a good way. The piano--"

"-- wasn't tied down. Superman had to save him, and his mom and dad, from the sinking ship -- you read the article, you read all her articles. I want a dog."

Lex tilts his head, and regards Kitty with a speculative air.

_C'mon. C'mon. C'mon._

Throwing his hands up, as if he's finally decided what to have for breakfast, Lex responds. "Fine. It's not his kid. I thought the concept was far-fetched anyway; he's an inhuman alien, after all. Whatever. She'll still be heartbroken, and he'll still be dead, and I'll still have New California."

"And a new dog." Kitty rolls her eyes, and eats olives. _Tomorrow… I'll do it… tomorrow._

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High above Lois Lane's apartment building, two figures rise into the darkness, as insignificant as soap bubbles in the vastness of the night sky. Superman glances up, and squints into the black. _Tomorrow… I'll do it… tomorrow. _

_Tonight, is for them._

Wrapped in the expanse of crimson wool, and rubber-like fabric of Superman's cape, Jason fingers the edge, and strokes the fine lining against his cheek. "I want to fly too. Can I get a cape like yours?"

He meets Superman's identical blue eyes -- eyes that betray their alien heritage -- eyes more human than humanly possible. _He thinks I'm like him – human – and the suit is the alien. _

_Oh, but he isn't human, is he?_

"The cape doesn't make me fly, Jason" _He's only 5 years old… he can't even read. There's no way he can understand that I'm not human and that he's half-human. _

_Not… yet. He's not ready._

"The cape... is just something I wear –- like your coat -- and it keeps your mom warm when we fly."

"Like my coat? My coat doesn't cover my butt… it's to keep your butt warm?"

Superman chuckles, and blushes at the reference.

"Well, I guess it hides my butt – I never thought about that. My mom made my first suit, so maybe she thought of that."

"So, if it's not a magic cape that makes you fly… is it 'cause you're an illegal alien?"

_This is going to be way harder than I thought._

"Jason… you know how you've lived here in Metropolis all your life?"

"I was born here," he proclaims, puffing out his chest, "I've lived here a long time."

"Well, I'm not... from around here."

"I know -- you're from Kansals, right?"

Superman chuckles at Jason's selective pronunciation. "Right –- Smallville -- but that's a secret."

"Right, like the glasses."

Superman purses his lips, and takes a deep breath. _Don't sidetrack me kiddo… one secret at a time okay? _"Right. But I wasn't born there."

"Where were you born?"

Superman changes his orientation to float on his back -- with Jason lying on his chest -- so both can look up into the clear night sky. He points, and whispers in the boy's ear.

"Far, far away -- and, by the way, I'm not illegal."

Turning to look into his fathers eyes, Jason tilts his head, and juts out his chin quizzically. "But… you said your mom made your suit."

"My earth mom; I was adopted."

Jason's tiny brow furrows, and Superman gets a glimpse of an older boy, serious and deep in thought. He clambers up to a sitting position on Superman's chest, kicking him in the face with his Keds in the process. Kal-El ignores the ignominy, and Jason is oblivious as he pursues his thought. "Like Sally in my JK. Her parents went to heaven early, and she had to adopt a new mom and dad."

"Yeah, like Sally."

"So your adopting mom... made you a magic suit? Is that why you never fly when you wear your glasses at work?"

_Just like his mom – a pit-bull, with a mouthful of pant leg, when he gets an idea. Next, he's going to think I hypnotize people with my glasses -- to make them not recognize me as Superman; how outrageous is that?_

"Your mom doesn't know I'm Clark, and it has to stay a secret, Jay -- just for a little while."

"Why?"

"Superman... can't have friends; bad people will go after Superman's friends, so only Clark can have friends. That's why no one can know Superman and Clark are the same person."

_God, that's convoluted –- Rules for Dual Identity Survival 101._

"I won't tell."

"I know, but the less people that know, the better; I don't like secrets either, but they aren't secrets if everyone knows them. I'm gonna tell your mom… someday, but only when it's safe to. Until then, my secret… identity protects her."

Jason looks to the side, his thoughts inward, forgetting all about the bedtime flight.

He cuddles down on Superman's chest again, and casts his gaze up to into the blackness. He lies back, tickling Kal-El's nose with his hair. Too soon for his father's liking, he shifts position, and points toward the moon. "What's that?"

"What's what?" Superman chuckle/rumbles, making his chest vibrate. "The moon?"

Jason giggles his response. "No there… that dark spot."

Superman swallows, and chews his lip. _He can see that?_ "N…New Krypton. Um… remember when I made the island go away?"

"That's it?"

"Yeah."

"…in the sky, like the moon."

"Uh. Yeah."

"Okay, cool."

Superman hugs Jason to him, and avoids his eyes so he won't see the naked emotion that lies there. _It can't wait, can it? I can't have any time with them. My life. Now or never. _

Thunder rumbles in the distance, and his mouth quirks with the timing.

_Thanks. _He reluctantly turns back toward the penthouse.

"Looks like rain, how 'bout we call it a night, son," Superman says -- and stops, for a heartbeat, in midair.

Jason tilts his head and looks at him. He affects what Clark has dubbed his serious face. "I heard her tell you --" Jason looks in Clark's eyes, and pokes his finger in the centre of the Kryptonian crest, "-- at the hospital." He averts his gaze and traces the shield's textured outline. Superman pauses again in flight, for a moment forgetting where he is, so focused he is on the boy's intent expression. Then, coming back to himself, he drops softly to the balcony.

Surprised, but pleased, Lois walks over to greet them. "Back already, boys?"

"It's starting to rain, Mom." Jason runs past her, dragging Superman by the hand. Lois smiles at the incongruous vision of the world's most powerful being... under the thrall of a small boy. She follows them into the penthouse.

"So, what have you two been talking about?"

Superman lets go of Jason, who runs into his room, giggling all the way. He takes a step toward Lois, and looks at her with an unreadable expression.

She blinks, and holds her breath.

Kal-El frowns. _Should I…? _"Jason's figured it out –- he knows."

"He knows…?"

Superman lets out a deep sigh, his body sagging in a decidedly Clarkish manner. "Everything… he knows it all."

**TBC**

Thanks all, for the very helpful reviews. I feel I'm learning so much from you all. Don't stop:)


	4. Everything

A CITY 2000 MILES FROM VANCOUVER – ANYTIME

A lone writer stands and wave a brace of decent SMALLVILLE scripts in the void.

KARA-EL

(wistfully)

Look… YOO HOO. Over here – these stories are good… and make sense… sigh.

The sound of a single cricket disturbs the silence.

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4. Everything

Lois's mouth hangs open. She shuts it with a clack, "H… Hold that thought," then touches a finger to her lips to silence him, and pats his chest with the outstretched palms of both hands as if to root him to the spot. With a final nod, to make sure he is locked in place and won't fly away, she runs in to tuck Jason into bed.

She comes back out almost immediately, searches Kal's face for a clue, and ventures a guilty shrug.

"He wants you."

Like a light switch, Superman's expression turns stricken, and speaks volumes to Lois, but she is adamant, so he steels himself to battle a five-year-old lie detector in Keds.

"Hey, Munchkin." Kal's mighty form is silhouetted in the doorway, eyes shining in the darkness.

"Dad calls me that -- my other dad -- I guess you can call me that too."

Superman swallows, and his chest swells as if his heart would burst free and take flight without him. He takes a deep shuddering breath and, when he speaks, his voice is low, with a catch even superpowers can't hide. "I... I'd like that... son."

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Kal-El closes Jason's door, and enters Lois's sitting room.

"E-everything? What, exactly, are we talking about here?" Lois sits down hard on the beige recliner. It falls open –- springs weak from one too many run-ins with a certain five-year-old dervish. _I miss my so sophisticated white divan. That was before… before a night I can't remember… before Jason._

Superman's full weight drags his steps, and he settles heavily down on the edge of the fireplace hearth. His world-weary preoccupation is palpable, and Lois's anxiety rises. _What is going on?_

Kal seems to need something to hold onto, so he grasps the edge of his cape and worries it with his large hands.

"Lois, Jason heard… everything -- at the hospital. He's been waiting for the right time to break it to me -- he's known all along…" Kal's voice cracks. Lois is dumbfounded, witnessing this being from the stars, seated on her hearth, and ready to cry into his cape. _Well… your emotions are human. Wait, I knew that… didn't I?_

"Shhh… it's okay." She clambers out of the grip of the old chair and rushes to him, all her questions unimportant in the face of his irresistible vulnerability. _He needs me._

"Shhh, Super… uh, um… sweetie -- damn -- what is your name anyway? I feel stupid calling you a stupid moniker I... made up, after you dazzled me with the flying thing. It was an adolescent nickname, to meet a Daily Planet deadline -- and it stuck. I hate it."

"I don't -- I love it –- you named me, that's the best part of it… Lois, I couldn't have had a better name… and --" Kal looks at the crest on his chest, caresses it, and then looks at Lois like she had read his mind, "-- I already had the shirt."

They both smile, and she impulsively hugs him. "A sense of humour -– you're funny, I like that." She looks him over, a mix of mirth and concern on her face – that face that can turn hard as titanium in an instant. He blushes and looks down.

_I did that to him._

Lois stretches a finger out, to separate the famous curl from the long mane that falls forward over his downcast features, and, for a minute, is distracted by its sensuous silkiness. Caught up in the moment, both hands decide to cradle his jaw. The tips of her thumbs caress his face as if they never had another purpose. "I think I always liked that about you –- but I forgot, didn't I."

Lois meets eyes that look up at her under lush eyelashes -- _so much like Jason… and… someone, something else. Another something I've forgotten, I know it._

He opens his mouth to speak, and she realizes she's holding her breath, waiting.

They capture each others eyes, and eternity waits. Then Superman clears his throat, averts his gaze, and shifts his shoulders. He seems shy to continue. "Cla… Kal, Kal-El, that's my real name a… actually."

Lois raises her brows and seems relieved. She releases his face in slow motion, without awareness, and sits back on her heels in front of him on the fake fur rug.

"Humph, sounds familiar, Kla --"

"--um, Kal -- It should… you knew it once -- you knew me once. We knew each other -- hence Jason… but you… forgot."

Lois looks at Kal, empathizing with his confusion. She takes his hands in hers and pulls him down to sit with her on the floor. "Forgot? How could I forget? How could I ever forget us?" Lois tilts her head in puzzlement, and their joined hands sink in the plush white rug. It distracts her for a moment, and she looks at it.

Time slows.

Superman pulls his hands back, as if burned with her touch, and his hair falls again over his face. He leans back against the stone fireplace and examines the edge of his cape.

Lois's eyes blaze and she leaps to her feet. _Wait. A. Minute._

"Wait a minute –- YOU… you made me forget –- I can see it in your face, you skunk. How could you? Why?"

She grabs his chin as she would a bratty child's. "Look at me when I'm talking to you."

Kal meets her hazel fire with his own cobalt depths. His voice is softer than she can remember; she almost does not recognize its sound. "I stand at the edge of the pit, Lois. I would throw myself in without thought... to avoid causing you any more pain."

Nevertheless, Lois is locked and loaded, and will not stop until blood is spilled. "How could you use your powers on me like that?"

Superman stands, willing her to stand with him as if to steady both of them, his generous palms heating the curve of her shoulders. His limpid blue eyes search out her soul, making an entreaty that she might understand and accept his words. When he says her name, the resonance of his voice shakes her to her core.

"Lois, you… asked me to."

Her voice a whisper, her anger deflated, "I asked you?"

Yes, and I have no time to explain; I need to go. I need to keep you – everyone – safe… first, and foremost.

"We are safe… stay with me, us." _tell me… don't you know this is killing me?_

Gathering strength to walk toward the balcony, Superman straightens up, and steels himself to his purpose. "New Krypton is… falling back to earth… and I am the only one to stop it."

"No – you can't..."

"I started this, Lois. My property fell into evil hands."

"You almost died, how can this be worth your life?"

"My life, or all of Metropolis -- and… and… I can't wait any longer."

The kiss happens before she knows it, and it is as if he had never left her… as if they had never been apart. It lasts a matter of seconds, it lasts forever, and it's over too soon as he kisses a line to her ear and whispers there, "Goodbye Lois. Say goodbye to Jason for me."

"Superman…"

Then, like her spirit, he is gone.

TBC

Please don't forget to review :) Thanks.


	5. Willpower

Here you go kids. As I write this, my fax machine is humming with updates from the Planet via the Blue Boy Scout himself.

Don't laugh -- it's all true.

Disclaimer: Superman and his fellow characters are the property of Warner Bros. Studios and DC Comics, and created by Joe Shuster and Jerry Siegel. The fact that Clark has overly sensitive hearing, and complains about how loud we play our music, is beside the point. After all, he could stop crashing in our basement (literally) and actually sleep at his own place in Metropolis.

5. Willpower

In his new apartment, Clark unpacks the jumble of bags and boxes flown up from Smallville -- and down from the Arctic -- constituting the few items every Superman needs to round out the vintage dinette suite and threadbare couch. Out of the first box come extra crimson and cerulean suits, replicated by the Fortress -- before the crystals were hijacked -- along with a brace of microbreathers for short forays into space. _These will come in handy tonight. _

_Tonight – I'm not going away this time without saying goodbye._

Clark finishes unpacking at super speed, an uncharacteristic blur in tie and glasses.

_Done. I'm glad I confided in mom when I went to pick up my stuff. Sometimes, I think that little human is stronger than I am. I sure do miss her_.

He goes into the kitchenette and reaches into the fridge, pulling out a glass milk bottle imprinted 'Smallville Dairy'. He holds the cold glass against his cheek for a moment -- _I'm gonna miss the farm –- _and removes the paper foil seal. He rests the moist lip of the bottle against his own bottom lip, and tips the container up to let the full-cream whole milk pour over his tongue, and down his throat. The chill taste reminds him of _home, _and the contrast with his own extreme body temperature is refreshing. He places the half-empty bottle on the table's melamine surface, and sits down. A simple pad of paper awaits his ministration, and he regards it as if he needs to ask its permission to take on such a responsibility as a goodbye letter to Lois.

Clark takes another drink, and picks up the pencil. He twirls it for a moment in that way teenagers do when sitting an exam, and then starts to write.

**_Dearest Lois, _**

**_If you are reading this, know that I do love you, and I'm sorry I can no longer be there for you and my son. I hope you can forgive me for deceiving you, but my decision to work beside you as Clark, and stay close as your friend, was to keep you safe. To hide in plain sight. and be there when you needed me, was my only thought. The fact that, someday, you may come to hate me for the subterfuge, was of no consequence where your well-being was concerned. _**

**_I have enclosed the key to my apartment at 796 Dana Avenue – and paid the rent for one year. I have given your name to the landlord as a sublet, and all my possessions will revert to you in a separate will under Clark Kent's name. There is a hidden panel in the bedroom closet, behind which are certain things Jason may, someday, find useful._**

_**All my love forever, **_

_**Clark/Kal/Superman**_

Clark drains the milk bottle, and places it in the sink. Going back to the table, he folds the letter, sealing it and his house key into a white envelope. He slides it into a larger manila envelope labeled:

'To Lois Lane -- eyes only -- Open on confirmation of Superman's death'

Whirling himself into uniform, Superman scoops up the envelope, and stashes a couple of microbreathers in his cape pocket. He makes a quick scan outside his high-rise window, and takes off for the Daily Planet. After taking a nostalgic turn round the rooftop globe, he blurs into the deserted newsroom, stops, and deposits the envelope on Lois's desk.

At that instant, the elevator pings and the doors open, letting a weary Lois trap him like a deer in her headlights. Before she can utter his name, he exits out the window and shoots upward through the stratosphere, beyond the capabilities of any radar system, but feeling Lois's eyes track him nonetheless. His heart races, and his pulse pounds, but he knows he must get his feelings under control if he is to be ready for the ordeal before him.

He snaps on a microbreather.

Breaching the mesosphere, Kal begins a measured deep breathing technique, gleaned from a Tibetan ascetic he befriended during his early years as a freelance war correspondent. By the time he reaches the thermosphere, his oxygen needs are reduced to the point where the microbreather is more than enough to sustain him.

His need for oxygen, after all, is not for his lungs so much as for his brain, a minor difference from his look-alike earth cousins.

_VHEE VFHEEE FVEEE FFEEVEE VHEE VFHEEE FVEEE FFEEVEE_

The closer he comes to the inky Kryptonian blot in the skyscape, the louder the piercing crystal call becomes.

**_VHEE VFHEEE FVEEE FFEEVEE VHEE VFHEEE FVEEE FFEEVEE_**

Aware of the nagging ache caused by the still-distant Kryptonite, Superman slowly approaches New Krypton.

_It's drifting just beyond the exosphere in a rapidly disintegrating low orbit _-- _unlike the high orbit of the remains of the old '96 Delta 2 rockets. _

_That space junk will circle the earth for at least another hundred years -- or until I've seen enough of it. _

Willing himself to ignore the urge to 'take out' the garbage, Kal uses his super vision to scan the surface of the grotesque crystalline mass, looking for some weakness he can exploit.

**_VHEE VFHEEE FVEEE FFEEVEE VHEE VFHEEE FVEEE FFEEVEE_**

The crystal din cuts through the silence of space, and into Superman's mind, with the resolve of a cognizant being.

**_VHEE VFHEEE FVEEE FFEEVEE-- _**then, as if by design, it stops…

…and they are there… glowing in his telescopic field of vision, his crystals -- his precious gifts from his biological father -- scattered like chaff over the squalid surface.

_How can I possibly rescue them?_

Superman looks with longing at his prized possessions – so near, yet so unattainable --except at unknown cost.

As close as he dares, he floats in orbit around New Krypton, transfixed like a statue, staring as if through unbreakable glass at unattainable museum treasure, when the crystals begin to shift.

_My eyes are playing tricks – except… that DOESN'T happen to me. They moved. _

_They are MOVING._

The crystals rise as one, turning in space, and home in on their owner; free of earth influence, their dormancy ended, they go to Kal-El. He plucks them out of the vacuum surrounding him, and secretes them in his cape for safekeeping. A look of relief suffuses his handsome features, and he braces himself for the task ahead.

_Perhaps a focused beam of heat vision might break the island into smaller, more manageable, pieces -- _

_-- or… into smaller, more destructive, pieces that will all fall at the same time -- and that I will be powerless to stop._

_I wish I could clone myself._

_Maybe… a burst of super breath. Right. No breath in space, hence no super breath. Okay -- sign of oxygen deprivation -- stupid thinking._

_Outer space complicates things._

_My strength… and my flight… on earth against inertia, without friction here in space, defy all laws of physics. _

_This is NOT easy… _

_Pa once told me – son, if you believe you can do it, you can. _

_If it isn't physics, it must be my will._

Keeping a comfortable distance, Superman circles the island.

_There – on the underside – an outcropping of solid magma, and it's mostly lead._

_Maybe I could ram it._

_I could. _

_I must. _

_I think I can I think I... can -- don't... lose it Kent… _

_-- back home... with Jason reading "The Little Train That Could"._

Clark focuses on his objective, swallows his doubts, and positions himself directly opposite the natural magma shield. He backs off to gain distance.

_Got to… visualize the speed… will myself to go faster than I… _

His muscles straining and popping with tension, Superman's lips work as he counts down to the burst of absolute super speed he will need to ram Lex Luthor's ill-conceived progeny into oblivion -- without shattering it into deadly earth-bound meteors --

-- and, without killing himself in the process.

TBC

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A day without reviews, is a day without sunshine.


	6. Solitude

TorontoBatFan asked why I did not have Superman use a lead lined suit to protect him from New Krypton. This is an explanation of the choice I made.

The lead lined suit is a very good suggestion that has been used in other fics, and in the comics. I decided that this was a turn of events that happened so fast, that Superman didn't have time to think it through except to react -- perhaps this experience urges him on to use that type of suit in the future.

Remember that in the Superman Returns universe, he's only been active as Superman for a year or two maximum, and is still young and learning, unlike our experienced Supes from the comics. (His trip to Krypton was mostly in stasis)

There -- that's my excuse, and I'm sticking to it:)

Disclaimer: Superman and his fellow characters are the property of Warner Bros. Studios and DC Comics, and created by Joe Shuster and Jerry Siegel. The fact that my real brother's name is Clark is beside the point.

6. Solitude

The impact vibrates his molecular structure, and his body heats up. Nothing in his experience can compare with the sensations, emotions, and sound that move through his being. Then, it is over, and only white light remains -- not a blinding glare, nor a harsh glow, but a gentle, warm luminosity – a welcoming illumination that brings him home.

"Kal, open your eyes. Look at me."

Superman dutifully follows the voice's instructions, to see Lois looking down at him from her penthouse balcony.

"That's it… come on." He lifts up on his toes to fly to her, but seems rooted to the ground. He looks down to find out what is holding him back, but the three-piece tweed suit with vest, pale blue shirt, and blue and red diagonal stripe too-wide tie are not what he expected.

_Oh, I'm… uh, Clark -- that's why I can't fly. No, wait, that's not right. I'm me, Superman… Clark or Kal -- the name doesn't matter, I should still be able to defy gravity._

_What's going on here?_

He looks up at her; she turns to pick up Jason, so he can wave too.

Again, Clark tries to fly, and nothing happens. He looks up at the two beloved faces that haunt his waking dreams, and sees Lois's brow furrow.

"Clark, what are you waiting for? Jason wants his fly 'round before bed. Get up here now."

Clark whips his head around, astonished that Lois would out him like this in public.

_Wait… when did she learn my secret? _

Jimmy Olsen and Perry White appear to the left of Clark's shoulder, and he jumps back. Jimmy cranes his neck to see Lois, and then shakes his head.

"Yeah… Clark," Jimmy snarks, waving a shot glass of double-malt in the air, "Get up there. Do the flying thing –- or can't you do it without the cape?"

Clark can't believe his ears, and a fiery blush proves his loss of composure.

"Oh… uh, Jimmy… I, uh, don't know what you're talking about. Umm. What flying thing? I-I'm not S-S-Superman."

Perry claps Clark on the back, startling him, and making him cough. He taps Clark's nose with his unlit cigar. "Now, Kent, don't you let him get your goat, son. You know who you are." Perry shoves the chubby cancer stick in his mouth, and pokes his finger at Clark's chest. Kal's anxious eyes follow Perry's wink down his arm to his forefinger. What Clark sees at the end of that digit causes his world to tilt on end.

Superman's exposed insignia makes it very clear which who Perry means.

Clark's mouth hangs open, aghast, and he clutches at his unbuttoned shirt to pull it closed.

"Cla—ark!" Lois's bellow draws his attention upward, where she is gesturing at him to get up to the balcony.

Looking nauseous, Clark squeezes his eyes shut. _Dizzy – looking up – heights…_

"…always scared me…" and he is floating above the Daily Planet building, with Lois's warmth clasped in his arms.

"What… always scared you?" She looks into Superman's eyes, confusion colouring her newfound adoration for this impossible being. Faltering, he fumbles in the air, and Lois slips out of his grasp. Frozen, he watches her fall, and shuts his eyes against his shock and inability to act.

When he dares to peek, he grabs at the edge of his desk. _So… dizzy._ Gil glares at him from across the newsroom. The security guard, Leslie, is the first to approach him. "May I help you sir? I'm sorry, this is a restricted area – only D.P. employees allowed." Clark looks down at his familiar Superman colours and raises his eyebrows.

"Uh, I'm… Superman. I, uh…" _Why am I here – and in uniform?_

For a second, Leslie looks amused, and then purses her lips, "Super… who? I'm sorry sir; I'll have to escort you out of the building. Perhaps you should call and make an appointment." When he doesn't move, she takes hold of his arm, and he allows her to lead him to the elevator.

As he passes the tall windows, mirrored by the darkness of night, Clark is surprised to see that he is wearing his horn rims, and grins a sigh of relief. _That's why they don't know me – my disguise._

His smile freezes into a rictus of shock as he sees Lois nose-dive past the casement, toward the pavement far below.

"Lois…" He runs to the window, crashes through the glass, and plummets into the void.

He lands with a soundless puff of dust in the fertile soil of his Smallville farm. He picks himself up, brushes the dirt off his jeans, and reaches up to adjust his glasses, but they are not on his face. Patting down his jean jacket pockets, he looks around on the ground for them. _Well, I don't need them… I'm home. _He peels off his jacket and t-shirt, so that his sun-thirsty alien skin can soak up the golden rays, and he smiles at the glint from the wind vane as it creaks in the breeze.

Like a childhood chant, Clark calls, "Mom… Mo-om, where are you?"

He peers in the barn, and sprints up the stairs to the loft. The window looking out over the fallow field beckons him. Clark pouts. _Where are all the animals? Shelby?_

Taking the veranda steps two at a time, he throws open the front door, and finds the house exactly as he left it; his mother's favourite coffee mug sits empty by the sink, and the worn kitchen table, set with the inevitable scrabble game, glows under the warmth of the overhead lamp.

"I'm ho-ome."

He tilts his head, and closes his eyes to listen for her heartbeat.

_Nothing – NOTHING._

_No heartbeats._

_Anywhere. _

He races through the homestead, frantic, "Mo-o-om!"

_Oh, GOD… I'm alone…_

Ending up in his room on his childhood bed, Clark crawls under the covers, and pulls them up over his face. He stares at the underside of the blankets in the awful silence, and whispers,

"Mom?"

------------------------------------------------------

"Kent. Lois. My office." Lois rushes in, carrying a file-stuffed leather satchel, to find Perry, worrying an unlit fat Havana with his broad fingers. He jams it in his mouth and chews the end. When he notices that Lois notices, he rips the cigar from his teeth, stuffs it in his desk drawer, slams it, and spits in the trashcan.

_That no-smoking policy is sure rough on him -- for me it's an… excuse… _

"Lois, why haven't you submitted the museum heist piece? Without waiting for her answer, he throws open his office door. Damn it to hell, where is Kent?"

With an exaggerated eye-roll, Lois dumps her bag on the floor in front of Perry's desk. "Clark's not here, Chief. I – have no idea why, I'm not his keeper."

"The article, Lois? Any chance it'll be on my desk before the deadline?"

"Yeah about that – um."

"Look… forget it, we've got bigger fish to fry here. Binny the Dodge thinks he spotted a certain bald maniac in South America."

"Does this mean I get first dibs? Let me handle the Luthor story – he's there… I can feel it."

Perry waves her request off as if it wasn't important.

"Whatever – someone's gotta nail it before the Inquisitor scoops us."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence, Chief – I was only here for… years... before the absent Boy Scout showed up."

"Boy Scout?"

Lois exhales some tension, and explains something she thinks is as obvious as Perry's craving for a good smoke.

"Clark – you know, he's like a boy scout –– I can just hear him… golly, shucks, be prepared…"

Using his famous quiet-voice, Perry cajoles, "Lois, what do you have against that young man? He's never been anything but helpful to you."

Now, Lois is pacing. Her voice is not quiet.

"Right. He only gets your ear all the time -- he gets the best stories -- and he's never here when you need him."

She stops and leans on the desk, gripping the edge, white-knuckled. "This is because I'm a woman, isn't it?"

"Not this again…" as in the past, his balance of noble suffering and distain makes Perry White master of the eye roll.

"Yes, this again – do I need to do a feature on it to make you take me seriously?" Her voice cracks with emotion, "Even your nephew… gets his own office."

Perry stands, a warning look awakening in his warm brown eyes, "Now, Lois…"

Contrite, Lois stands up, shoulders her bag, and turns to leave. "I'm sorry Chief… that was way out of line. I--"

"—Lois, are you worried about your partner?"

Lois makes a disgusted face, "Clark? No… no, actually, I'm concerned about… Superman."

"For heavens sake, Lois, I think he can take care of himself."

"I don't know, Chief – I saw him put this on my desk last night… this is why I haven't finished the article."

She draws the envelope from her leather shoulder bag, holding it with a reverence and delicacy – as if it might shatter in her hands. She extends it out to Perry.

Taking the offered packet, his eyes scan the address label, and widen as he reads. His lips move, forming the word DEATH.

He looks up to meet Lois's brimming gaze. She collapses in the chair. "I can't. I can't… deny… how I feel, Perry." He looks at her as if she just grew a third eye, and Lois collects herself. "Forget what I… just – forget it." She scrambles out of the chair, grabs the envelope, and hurries to her desk, pausing only long enough to snag her coat on her way to the elevator.

Once the doors to the lift close, Lois hugs the manila wrapper to her chest and sobs, "Kal… oh, Kal," and sinks to the floor of the car.

TBC

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A review a day, keeps Lex Luthor away.


	7. Till Death do us Part

Disclaimer: Superman and his fellow characters are the property of Warner Bros. Studios and DC Comics and created by Joe Shuster and Jerry Siegel.

The fact that Clark is my real brother's name, and there is a small town in Alberta that believes he is Elvis, is REALLY beside the point. it's also an eerie coincidence. That his name is Clark. Like Superman. And he has black wavy hair.

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7. Till Death do us Part

As Lois settles down in her worn down, but comfortable computer chair, the monitors dotted around the Daily planet bullpen come alive with the news of Superman's latest feat. The nearest one, tuned to a Metropolis channel, catches her bleary gaze. The less than stylish, big-haired, blonde news anchor is not a favoured colleague, and Lois lets out a shuddering sigh.

"Cat Grant, reporting with GBS news – astronomers have confirmed that Superman is attempting to stop the, so-called, New Krypton satellite from terminally crashing to earth. As we speak, he is rocketing his way to intercept the incredibly ill-fated island in its deadly orbital decay. Naysayers dare to criticize the Man of Steel, mostly claiming that it is practically his fault that the problem exists, and it really is his responsibility to make it right, while his supporters wish him all the luck in the world. As always, this reporter is impartial, and wonders -- if he falls to earth, this time will the Man of Tomorrow become the Hero of Yesterday?"

_Shame on you Cat, and the writing -- can we say run-on sentence? And all those adverbs -- inexcusable and sloppy._

"Guh, Perry, television reporting sucks the big one -- Man of Steel, Man of Tomorrow -- artistic repetition, how original. "

Perry grabs Lois by the shoulders to stop her.

"Lois, you're rambling. You named him Superman, they coined Man of Steel – which name did he choose? Relax, he knows who his friends are."

Lois smiles at Perry, and they both look at the screen where a new report gets their attention.

"This view from the Hubble space telescope shows Superman approaching New Krypton. Rumours are this satellite is made from Kryptonian materials. As an aside, Lois Lane of the Daily Planet newspaper, known to have a special relationship with Superman, coined the name, New Krypton -- inspired by Superman's long-gone home world."

With paternal concern, Perry observes Lois's hollow, haunted eyes, and the tiny, involuntary twitches at the corners of her mouth. "Lois… maybe you should take a break – get out of here for a while."

She doesn't move, and all eyes in the bullpen continue to stare at the unfolding drama with a weird sense of déjà vu, fearing a repeat occurrence of events still only weeks old.

"How is he doing this – isn't he still sick?"

"I can't watch."

"Lois, have you seen him since…? Do you think he…"

The voices cut out and Lois hears a soft buzzing sound -- _I'm going to faint -- _her bloodless fingers grip her coffee cup… and her desk, while her eyes glue to the monitor like a rubbernecker's at a fatal car crash.

_This is too much -- I have to get out of here._

Perry watches her bolt for the door.

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A tremendous rumble reverberates through the Fortress, and Superman awakens with a start. He shakes his head, and for a second has no awareness of where he is and why.

_The crystalline monstrosity -- I had to… stop it… destroy it._

_My father's gift…_

He turns his head and feels soft silken sheets against his cheek.

–-_bed -- I'm lying in THE BED._

He sits up and grasps his chest, dizziness overwhelming him, and he falls back into the downy pillow and mattress, breathing in Lois's presence still there from so many years past.

_Why am I here? I haven't used this bed since…_

A booming voice interrupts his thoughts, "My son. Kal-El. You are awake –- good."

"Father?"

"Yes, it is I, Jor-El, your father."

Clark looks over to the crystal mainframe and sees that it is once again complete –- all but one of the stolen crystals returned to their receptacles. His memory of how he recovered them a painful white-hot blur.

"How long was I asleep?"

"Three days. The crystals protected you from physical damage. They brought you here, where you reinstalled them in the mainframe. Your mind was most affected, and you needed rest."

A sweeter voice cuts in, "You were sleeping so well, I did not want to wake you."

"Mother?" Kal-El's lips quirk. "I had a… dream."

A larger tremor shakes the foundation of the Fortress, and Jor-El speaks again to Clark.

"My son, there is need for action. The humans have precipitated a great crisis. I would rather you left them to most of their designs, but this could destroy them all if left untended."

"What, father, what is happening?"

"The ice, son -- Earth's Arctic ice – it is melting."

--------------------------------------------------------

_Four days… four days -- too long. Where is he? _

Sobbing, Lois throws a handful of bills at the cabbie and tries to open the door while the car is still rolling to a stop.

_Is he…?_

The cabbie jams his hand down on the auto door locks to keep her from tumbling out into the heavy traffic. "Lady… waitaminnute, you could kill yourself."

She wrestles with the handle, beside herself in her untethered emotion. The cab comes to a stop, and the driver releases the lock. As soon as he does, she catapults herself out of the door and trips on the way to the entrance to her apartment building. Her purse goes flying, and she gasps as she falls, skinning her knees on the cement.

The driver shakes his head. "Crazy broad," he yells out the window, then guns the cab and takes off.

Lois scrabbles herself to a standing position and bends to get her handbag. She holds on to it so tight that her nails threaten to pierce the leather. She loosens her grip and smoothes the soft calfskin against her chest, her tears falling and staining darker the chocolate suede.

At her door, the key doesn't want to fit the lock and Lois is in danger of losing it. Her hands quake, and when she is certain she will fall insensate to the floor, it slides in, and the deadbolt pops out as if to taunt her.

She collapses on her couch, thankful that Jason is still at his fathers place. _His father – this is Jason's father – this may be all that's… left. _This, being the missive he left on her desk, now resting on the coffee table before her.

_Thank God for Richard -- I don't want Jason to see me like this – not till this… is settled._

For the umpteenth time, Lois looks at the small tear in one corner of the manila envelope and tests it with a finger. In a trance, she watches her hand rips the brown paper packet in half, and a white business envelope falls out onto the plush fur carpet.

It sits up on end, supported by the long pile of the rug, and Lois tilts her head to read the single line of neat script on its face -- _**My dearest Lois** – his handwriting -- looks familiar. _

_Except… he's never written to me before, has he? _

_Is this something else I've forgotten? _

_Damn you, Kal, if I open this, does that mean you really are dead? _

_------------------------------------------------------_

Hovering high over the fortress, Kal-El marvels at his body's resilience. His memory of the impact with New Krypton is returning, and, with it, impressions of the crystal force cocoon that appeared, to protect him seconds before contact.

_I could breathe as if in a spacesuit, and it buffered the collision and absorbed the shock. I remember… a… ripple in the ether – visual distortion through the crystalline barrier._

His eyes closed, his body warms to its full temperature, and his skin glows with health. His elation at being alive, and above the clouds, suffused by the suns photonic radiation, almost makes him forget why he rocketed up here moments before. In rapture, he casts his gaze downward at the treasured remnant of his home world -- recreated here on the northernmost tip of his beloved adopted planet.

He is horrified to see it for himself.

The fissure, kilometres long in the Arctic ice.

Rushing back to the fortress, a stricken Kal-El activates the crystal console. The image of Jor-El illuminates the cavern, and his voice nudges Clark's soul.

"My son. This change in Earth's temperature threatens not only the Fortress, but the global status quo."

Clark sits down and wrings his hands. He looks up to make eye contact with Jor-El's image.

"This is beyond anything I know, Father. This is the planet rebelling against human abuse – what can I do?"

The image of his father looks on his son with compassion.

"The earthlings will make their home uninhabitable in less than one hundred years if they do not mend their ways. The change will be painful and slow, and you must guide them along the entire way. Perhaps, with your help, they will broach the century mark safely."

Superman jumps to his feet and exclaims,

"One hundred years… I will be long gone before that time comes."

Jor-El takes a deep breath before continuing.

"Kal-el… is it possible you do you not know?"

Clark's innocence – the innocence of youth, and lack of carnal knowledge -- of only one time, with the one woman he will love forever, shines through his eyes and pierces his father's heart.

"Know what, father?"

"Your longevity under the yellow sun, Sol, far exceeds that of a mere human man… barring Kryptonite exposure, you are near immortal. This was why we discouraged you from attachment to them – to ONE."

Clark's heart threatens to stop, and he feels faint.

_NO… I brought her back to life to watch her die? To see everyone around me I love die? NO… fate can't be that cruel._

"No…"

"Yes. Son, you will live a very long time, Rao willing, and can shepherd the humans through this crisis."

"But… Lois--"

"--will be gone before you are of a mature age. She will fade, and you will stay… youthful."

"No… please."

"I am sorry, son… you are a testament to our love -- and you must be strong. You are the last son of Krypton."

"Father, this is too much for me – for one man."

_Too much for Superman… but maybe Clark can do something…_

"Son… You must do this… you are the last son of Krypton."

"Father… about that… um."

_No time for this now, Clark. You can tell him he's a Granddad later -- after we've solved global warming. In a hundred years. _

_Procrastinate much, Smallville? _

_Get out of my head Lois. _

_Funny… I know I've forgotten something. _

_Lois..._

_LOIS. THE LETTER._

_I think I'm gonna throw up._

TBC

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Thank you for reviewing. We writers don't need much encouragement -- just a line or two will do -- please review!


	8. Immortal

**Sorry this took a little longer to produce. A story is like an over-microwaved cake -- the middle is tough.**

Disclaimer: Superman and his fellow characters are the property of Warner Bros. Studios and DC Comics and created by Joe Shuster and Jerry Siegel. The fact that Clark keeps waffling about telling Lois who he really is, is beside the point-- and not my fault. I can't count the late night heart to hearts we've had on the subject.

**8. Immortal**

Soaring above the Arctic tundra… turning south to make the trip back to Metropolis, Superman watches the landscape change from ice and snow, to wildflowers and corn, and finally to glass and steel. The inevitable conversation with his father -- the one he wanted to postpone -- had happened anyway. It replays in his mind like footage of a train wreck -- horrible, but riveting in its finality and clarity.

_**"Um… Father I… I'm not the last son of Krypton… not anymore, um… Lois and I --"**_

_**"--I understand, my son. The compatibility of Human and Kryptonian DNA… and your… emotional upbringing -- this was always a possible outcome, but not unwelcome.**_

_**"I love him, Father, and want to be a part of his life – and Lois's too…"**_

_**"The child may not have all your abilities, but the Kryptonian genes will be dominant."**_

_**"He is strong already, Father, and can hear and see beyond the ability of other children."**_

_**"Then, he will be able to help you on this road, Kal-el, and he will be there when… SHE… is gone. It will be a long and difficult time and you must be strong in your resolve."**_

_**---------------------------------------------------**_

Lois paces on her balcony, smoking, cordless phone in hand. She is disheveled, even for her, in threadbare sweatshirt and jogging pants – her comfort clothes.

She rolls her eyes and sighs, "Richard -- I need you to keep Jason a little while longer."

At the Planet, Richard crouches at floor level with Jason, playing jacks. "Lois, I can't -- Perry thinks there may be a break in the Luthor story…"

"What do you mean you can't?" _This is so… but he wouldn't ask if he had any choice – aw, what the hell -- damn Perry anyway, — "_no… fine, just… bring him home."

Lois smashes the cigarette out on the patio table, and drags herself back into the sitting room. She flops down on the couch, lies back on the cushions and falls asleep.

-----------------------------------------------------

Jason pauses as he draws yet another Superman masterpiece, and examines his work with a child's critical eye. His shoulders sag, and he asks Lois a question while still looking at the picture. "Mommy, where is Daddy gone?"

Lois studies the fall of his satiny chestnut hair. _Poor little munchkin – he's terrified -- he must have heard Richard or Perry mention Luthor's name. _She reaches out to caress a strand and soothe him. "He's just working, Jason, don't worry. Uncle Perry needed him to do some more research. He doesn't know how long he'll be, but --"

Jason interrupts her, and waves his crayon sketch for emphasis. "-- No, I mean my other daddy -- Superman. I saw him on TV at Daddy Richard's. The TV lady said he was trying to stop the island from falling."

Stunned, Lois tries not to overreact. _Can he hear my heartbeat racing – or my pulse? Can he do that… yet?_

"Um, he… I'm not sure… where he is, sweetheart. He'll come by to see us after, when he's not busy." Lois looks away to the dog-eared envelope on the coffee table.

"We saw it… Mom." Jason goes over and tugs Lois's hand. "Mo-om…" She blinks as if waking up and seeing him for the first time. She tries to smile, and he hugs her, which elicits a sigh. She hugs him back, and holds him at arms length, devouring his darling littleboyness with her eyes.

"What -- honey, what did you want to tell me?" Lois sniffs and reaches for a tissue, coming up with a shredded handful from the ruined box. _It's been a rough couple of days – need to go… shopping… _

Jason waits for her to compose herself, and as she marvels at what a little man he's become, he says the thing that sends an icicle through her heart.

"The island made him sick last time, right Mommy? And he went in the hospital."

_Keep it together Lois._ "Yes, sweetie… yes it did."

"I saw it up in the sky, when we went flying, and Daddy told me what it was."

"YOU saw it?" _This is too fast. Oh God… and he's not here -- Jason I can't help you…_

Jason swallows, and his beautiful eyes brim. Tears tumble down the baby planes of his tiny face, and Lois's heart clenches. "Will he have to go in the hospital again, Mommy?"

The preternatural ability to lie, hide, and protect -- known only to mothers -- emerges from Lois subconscious, and allows her to whisper to her son, "I hope not honey. Let's not worry about stuff before it happens, okay?"

Jason looks up at her, and squints slightly. _I've seen that look before – is he… x-raying me?_ _Okay – now you're getting paranoid Lois._

Satisfied with this, Jason nods and yawns. "Okay. I'm gonna go to bed now. Maybe he'll visit me tonight." Jason kisses her cheek, and Lois nods, stunned, as he runs down the hall to his room. His door slams in time with the crunch of the envelope crushed in her hand. She looks down at it, and runs her fingertips over the outline of the small object within.

_A key?_

Lois smoothes the envelope out over her knees, and then places it back on the table, willing herself to be the one, on top of everything else tonight, to have x-ray vision.

_I wish I could take my own advice. _

As Superman nears Lois's apartment, an air of calm settles on him like a warm blanket, and he uses a combination of telescopic and x-ray vision to check on her.

_I was naïve, and took the fortress -- my heritage -- for granted. Now, both my past and my future lay in that tiny package, nestled under a Star Wars comforter, two doors down a penthouse hallway. _

He smiles when he sees that Jason is back and asleep in his own bed, but, with Lois's distress, his smile vanishes like a reflection in water when disturbed.

He floats down to meet her.

He alights, and the heartbreakingly familiar sound, tiny but unmistakable, makes her turn and look out through the patio doors to the balcony.

At first, she thinks she has nodded off, and squeezes her eyes shut. _Wake up. _However, when she opens them, he is seated beside her on the couch -- his perfect gaze taking in her every movement -- his impeccable hearing gauging her heart rate and blood pressure, and assessing it without a thought.

After what seems like forever, he points to the envelope on the table and picks it up.

He smiles grimly. "You didn't open it."

_Oh, I do not want to pursue this – I am too tired._ "No…"

Naiveté personified in spandex, "Why?"

Lois rolls her eyes, but in a kind way. "It's, um… like an obituary, I guess – I didn't want to jinx you."

_Not that it didn't call to me like a triple layer fudge cake with mocha mint frosting._

_Fine_.

"I vowed I wouldn't open it till you were bloody and cold in my arms – otherwise, I wouldn't really know that you were dead, and... how could I open it even then… I mean… it says 'on the event of Superman's death' and… I had to be sure – but, if you were dead, then I might want to--"

"--Lois, you're babbling."

"It's what I do best."

"Here, open it – I want you to."

Lois jumps up, and distances herself from him and the envelope as if he had offered her a cup of Hemlock, "Why?"

"You should know – everything."

"Everything – what… everything?"

"What I wanted you to know, what you would… know… if I was dead."

"I don't want to -- not like this… I… I… can't."

"Why not?"

"Because -- this is too easy. People don't put all their secrets in a letter, to be revealed on their death, unless there's a good reason why they are keeping the secrets in the first place. Whatever you haven't been able to tell me… all these… years - why would the existence of this--" She waves at the letter for emphasis. "--make any difference?"

Kal looks at her. He goes to say something and she rushes to crouch before him, a trembling finger pressed to his lips. "No, you have to want to tell me… for the right reasons – then it's real."

Superman swallows, whispers something too quiet for Lois to hear, and reaches his hands out to smooth her unkempt hair. He wipes her tear-streaked face with his broad thumbs with such care; her breath catches at his touch.

She pulls herself up and sits beside him. With shaking hands, she rips open the end of the envelope and slides out the key.

"Keep your key." –_an apartment key… a lot like mine_ – _Lois, where is the courage of your convictions? _She tosses it to Superman, who plucks it from the air and holds it in his closed fist.

"And, as for this…" Lois stands, and tosses the envelope, with its secrets, in the fireplace.

Clark turns shining eyes on her. She smiles, shy, and ducks her head.

"I sure hope you remember the pretty words you said in that letter, Mister, 'cause I'll expect, one day, that you'll recite them word for word – and I hope I won't have to wait too much longer to hear them."

Clark pulls her to him, and, in a voice that sounds warm and familiar -- yet, a voice she has never heard, he says, "Lois, I love you."

TBC


	9. A Kiss to Forget

Thanks for the reviews -- 'tis better to be talked about, than not talked about - Oscar Wilde, paraphrased

Disclaimer: Superman and his fellow characters are the property of Warner Bros. Studios and DC Comics and created by Joe Shuster and Jerry Siegel. The fact that this story is all true is beside the point.

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9. A Kiss to Forget

Clark sidesteps Jimmy Olsen with an automatic apology as he rushes to the elevator. _Damn… I actually forgot about that meeting with Perry – now Superman is late for his appointment with Lois. _

The old lift clanks and complains before the doors rumble open, and it's all Clark can do to keep his clothes on until they squeal and creak shut. The speed he divests himself of his Clarkwear is so fast, in fact, the suction created by his sudden takeoff brings his garments up to the roof with him. _I'll have to remember that trick – could save some cash if I don't have to visit the Salvation Army every other week for new-old suits._

Folding the clothes carefully, he finds a dry corner to stash them and rises up in the night sky to get ready for his entrance. As he clears the curving letters that encircle the Daily Planet's globe in a 30's-style mimic of Saturn's rings, he hears Lois shiver before he sees her.

_She waits for me up here in the cold -- in drenching rain on this freezing rooftop. I know Lois – anyone else would draw back a stump for such an imposition._

As he lowers himself to the roof, his heart beats hard and fast in his chest like a startled bird. _I remember it fluttered its wings in panic when it grazed my face, stunned. I held it until it came to, shook itself and took off, no thank-yous, no apologies. _

He sees her now, under the eave of the doorway -- little protection from the rain, now driving sideways, bent on claiming her. She sees him and hesitates – her better judgment warning her to stay where it's dry, her instinct urging her to go to him.

_She looks at me if I was the sun and she was the Kryptonian starved for energy -- as if I give her life, not the other way around._

_I have to tell her._

"Lois."

He follows her movement - his entire being attuned to her personal rhythm, thrumming in time. The blood behind his eyes blinds him, until all he can see is the spectra of light that halos her body, and, whatever passionate biological mechanism powers his heat vision, it smoulders in his pure-sky-blue pupils - turning them a deep, otherworldly violet as he observes her.

Running toward him, she kicks off her shoes -- discarding them on the rain-puddled cement of the Daily Planet roof.

Superman frowns, "Your feet must be cold, Lois."

"Not if I do this," and she steps up onto his boots, surprised as always how soft and warm they are to the soles of her stocking feet. She flexes her toes.

"Hold on," he whispers, as he envelops her in his cape against the storm, and shoots straight up -- to float above the clouds where the air is clear and the stars sparkle like raindrops suspended in time – an eternity of promise poised above them.

Her voice is tiny in the darkness, "This is a new outfit, isn't it? Is the cape wool?"

His eyes smile at her prosaic/intimate question and he drops his guard for the moment.

"My… a… mother… made my first uniform, but, before I… left, the AI crystal at the Fortress manufactured some modified suits for different purposes -- of course, this was prior to Luthor's unwelcome visit -- now that I have them back --"

" -- you're your own designer." Lois quips. An uncommon twinkle in her eye, she taps his shoulder with her reading glasses.

Relaxed, Superman drops his hero mask and allows Clark to continue. "No, um, I just tell it what the suit needs to… do; the AI decides the rest. This material's thicker – more resilient –- well, except to Kryptonite –- and, now that I have the crystals back, I'll be able to mend the tear in the, uh…"

Lois spreads her hands over the cloth on his chest, her eyes scrutinizing the fabric with her own brand of x-ray vision –- her glasses -- and she adjusts them on her nose.

His banter halted by Lois's intent inspection, Kal languorously lets his eyelids slide shut for a moment, and breathes in her natural perfume –- her pheromones -- that only he can sense.

"I can't find the rip," Lois says, reaching a slim arm around his trunk, making Kal lose his train of thought. "Is this a different suit?"

"Uh… um, this is a spare," he squirms, "My day to day suits are all pretty much the same…"

Lois peers up at him through her glasses. Her natural far-sightedness makes her eyes huge behind the lenses, and Kal can't help but chuckle.

"Hey, close up, you're cute." She reaches up and examines his cheek in a clinical manner, "Wow, you have perfect skin -– I am so jealous -- and such silky hair – what conditioner do you use?"

Eyes locked with her knight in spandex armour, Lois keeps a straight face for a full five seconds, but an explosive snort followed by a convulsion of snickering, sends Kal into a laughing fit, and, still giggling, Lois slips off his feet. He gasps, drops to catch her with one arm around her waist, and clasps her tightly to him.

_I'm not safe for her -- how can I risk – _his existence defined by the feel of her hair tickling his nostrils, and his own quickened breath deflecting off the skin of her neck.

"What?" Lois frowns, quicksilver-serious in tune with his mood turn. "Hey, you're squishing me." She pushes back from him, pulls off her glasses and peers at him askance, her little methodically-nibbled nails pressing against his chest. "Your heart is going 80 miles an hour – even faster than usual. What's up? It's not the first time I've fallen."

He blinks, turns his head away, and wipes at his eyes, "Just a… bad dream I had – I'm okay – it's okay.

Are you okay?" He looks at her and then hugs her to him.

She pushes back a bit, with a grin, "Look, big boy – I've heard lame lines before, but that one takes the fruitcake."

Kal lets out a breath and smiles at her, "That's me… one big red and blue fruitcake – take me."

Giggling again, she swats him – and drops her glasses; they watch them fall, a fast diminishing speck, through the clouds, toward the Planet roof far below. He senses her heart rate rise, afraid despite being encircled by his arms, protected within his grasp. He reads her mind. _That could be her and she knows it. _

Kal tightens his hold on Lois, and swoops down to intercept her spectacles before they smash on the concrete.

_…So selfish to put her in mortal danger – I can't let her be responsible for me. Because I am… immortal, I am a danger to her. My danger is not physical – I must bear it, for her sake._

The mood spoiled, they descend without a word, both busy in their minds, Lois unaware of the opportunity passed.

--------------------------------------------------------

In the hallway of the Metropolis Justice Building -- teeming with the usual parasitic media whores and court reporters, lawyers and concerned citizens -- Kitty Kowalski sidles up to Superman.

One Surprise Pink fingernail grazes his arm.

"Hey Superman," Kitty purrs. Cameras whirr and click, and Kal vibrates to blur his image, avoiding an unwanted appearance with Lex's ex on the front page of the Inquisitor.

"Ms. Kowalski," he responds in a stern tone, "I understand you are cooperating fully with the authorities concerning your testimony." He steers her into an alcove and, with a heated glance at the paparazzi, telegraphs his need for a moment of privacy. To Kitty's surprise, the pack retreats -- a testament to the level of respect due Metropolis's adopted son and veritable saviour.

Eyes narrowed, he looks down on her from his great height, and she shivers… _he can see right through me – careful._

"Yeah, I'm finished with Lex. I want to turn over a new leaf, and I thought we could… talk about that."

Superman takes a deep calming breath and begins to walk away from her –- his boots silent on the marble of the should-be-echoing hallway. He throws his comment over his shoulder and avoids her eyes, "It's inappropriate for us to talk during the investigation -- considering the circumstances."

Kitty skitters up to him to grab his arm again, and Superman disengages her with a feather touch of his other hand as if he cannot bear the physical contact – his disgust with her revealed in a slight flaring of his nostrils as if she is an unpleasant smell.

The newsmen wait patiently at the far end of the hall for a heads-up sign from Superman, but he raises a hand and they bide their time, checking light levels and scoping out angles of view, heeding Superman's wish. Ben Peter's mistake the week before was sufficient to the lesson. _A million dollar pic,_ thought Ben -- _A weeping mother consoled by Superman, while cradling her child, murdered by a serial killer – I need just one frame_. The other photogs had discerned the message in his violet glare, but Ben's greed, thinking Superman wouldn't notice the tiny click and whir of the shutter, cost him his brand new Nokia -- crushed in an instant because he wanted a picture the Kryptonian wouldn't allow.

"But, Super… man, I want to talk to you. It's kind of important -- and I wanted to discuss the boy."

Superman halts and turns to her, internal red flags going up and alarm bells ringing. He struggles to keep calm and crosses his arms across his chest in defence. His voice, when he finds it, catches on some phlegm… "Boy?"

Kitty smiles a warm toothy grin that encompasses her eyes, her hair, her whole being, as she places both hands -- long nails spread wide -- on his forearms. _Mmm, rubbery… I've got him. _She looks into his alien eyes and sees fear. "Your… boy." She reaches one nail up to stroke along his cheek, and he trembles. She giggles at his reaction.

Superman shifts to escape from her hands, drops his arms, and moves back. His face turns an odd shade, but his voice keeps the same stentorian timbre.

"Um, K… Katherine -- can you get to the roof?"

Giggling, Kitty jumps up like a little kid promised a big bag of candy, "I'll meet you there."

Superman walks back down the long hall toward the smiling and deprecating press, his feet echoing for effect. After the obligatory questions and some clever, yet vague, answers, Kal excuses himself and exits a nearby window.

-----------------------------------------------------

Lowering to the roof as gracefully as possible, considering his insides feel like jelly, Superman approaches Kitty, who sits cross-legged on a rooftop skylight. _She's like a dangerous cat -- I think her claws would make even me bleed_.

"Um, Katherine, to be perfectly honest, I can't imagine what you would have to say to me -- unless it's concerning the whereabouts of your… boyfriend."

Kitty makes a face at Superman's mention of Lex. "I'm sorry Superman. He took off, after… abandoning me at that pet shop."

She moves toward him, a purple Lamborghini bearing down on the deer in her headlights. "I'm totally available -- if you know what I mean."

He doesn't know where she acquired super speed, but her arms are around his neck before he knows it and her lips -- _What?_ _Oh, God… she's kissing me – Lois…_

_Lois – NO -- she's HERE…_

The rooftop door bangs open, and Lois stands, a delicate silhouette framed in the harsh fluorescent light of the stairwell. "Ms. Kowalski… I have a few questions our readers would like... clarified…"

As Superman attempts to extricate himself from Kitty's anaconda grip without hurting her, she continues to smear lipstick over his face and neck. His heightened senses force on him Lois's emotional reaction, and her anxiety comes to him in an acrid wave. He realizes, like a punch to the gut, that all his abilities are not enough to erase the hurt and betrayal etched on Lois's beautiful features. _No… Lois – oh, honey -- it's not what it looks like…_

"Kal?" Lois utters.

Kitty giggles. "Oh look -- it's the wife."

-

TBC

Don't forget to review -- thanks:)


	10. Love is Blind

Thanks for all the reviews -- I'm sorry it takes me so long to update, but life has thrown me some curves lately, and I never played baseball as a kid, so I keep missing them.

Disclaimer: Superman and his fellow characters are the property of Warner Bros. Studios and DC Comics and created by Joe Shuster and Jerry Siegel.

The fact that white Kryptonite was just discovered in Serbia is beside the point. Yes, it's real.

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10. Love is Blind

The gothic gargoyles, perched on each corner of the Justice building roof, glisten with the evening damp -- their stone grimaces set into sharp relief by the light filtering around Lois's body, silhouetting her, and hiding her face in shadow.

Superman pries himself from Katherine Kowalski's clutches, and moves to place himself between her and Lois.

He notes, with a tiny thrill that chases up his spine, that he would not be surprised if she launched into the air with all the power and might of a fellow Kryptonian.

_Her__ aura is… luminous…_ "Lois, I…"

Kitty watches, with hungry eagerness, the show she has set in motion. Grinning, she examines her nails -- her mouth working like a thirsty hyena's. She snatches a glance at Lois.

Lois stands in place, waiting – she turns toward the light and her profile glows -- her expression hard and unreadable.

At least… by Kitty.

Relief washes over Clark like a blast of cold water in a shower -- surprising, but welcome in its unexpected freshness. _My senses over-reacted, and registered the alarm pheromones – too much information, I guess. _

_This is all so… new to me._

Moreover, as he stands in wonder at the miracle that has just happened – at the impossibility that someone, some human -- besides his adoptive parents -- may understand him and believe in him, she takes a step toward him. He stops breathing… and then, she takes another step, and, as she doesn't stop, Clark thinks his heart will -- or that it may simply burst from his chest -- unable to contain the feelings –

_-- Breathe, Clark, breathe._

He feels dizzy, and, for the second time in his life, he experiences a kind of tunnel vision – where all he can see is his dear loved one, in a halo of light where all around is nothing – not even darkness – absolutely nothing.

The first time was when his father had the heart attack. _All my fault – I asked him to run -- I raced ahead, and urged him to follow, and when I turned around, his face was buried in the dust of the laneway. _

_His face._

_Lois, I can't lose you too – please, __don't__ love me -- I can't bear it -- everyone -- __everyone__ that loves me, suffers._

Inches from him now, and misunderstanding his pensive expression, Lois whispers, "Kal, don't sweat it – this is Lex's ex, right? She's just picking up where he left off -- but instead of leaving you smeared with blood…" she pulls a tissue from her bag and wipes at his face, saying loud enough for Kitty to hear, "…it's cheap lipstick."

Cleaning his face, her eyes locked with his -- he knows her bravado is rice paper thin, but he also knows that her very first reaction was instinctual, and her trust in him and her native intelligence has won out over her gut.

_Lois, again__ you've pulled me back from the brink; I'm safe with you._ Every speck of lipstick transferred to the tissue, erasing Kitty's attempt to divide and conquer.

Slowly, he is renewed and healed by the one woman who loves him.

Kitty takes a hesitant few steps forward, her cherry-red, six-inch spikes chittering on the cement stone, and interrupts the lover's interlude, resenting the bonding going on under her nose, determined to preserve some of the damage she thought she'd caused. "Uh… excuse me… not cheap – it was the best lip colour money could buy – three hundred and fifty dollars a tube."

Lois smirks, spitting on the Kleenex and dabbing at Clark's skin, and mutters, "Funny, I thought the good stuff didn't rub off -- maybe you're just wearing too much."

Spitting and hissing like a badger, Kitty runs at Lois, ready to take her eyes out, when Superman holds a hand up, and looks down at her with his patented number three beatific expression.

"Okay, ladies – Katherine – look, I have a… kind of… aura that repels dirt, or, um, anything. No makeup would stick to my skin. Even printers ink won't leave a stain -- so I'm sure we could… start over. Lois, why don't you interview Ka-- um, Miss Kowalski -- now that you're both here."

With an arch look at Kal, that elicits a slight reddening of his cheeks, Lois smirks, "I think I will."

She strides toward Kitty, who seems to shrink a fraction at her approach -- her attack on the boy in blue not having the result she'd expected. "Plan B," Kitty whispers.

"Any thoughts on the whereabouts of your boyfriend, Ms. Kowalski?"

Kitty's light tone, "How's that SUPER kid of yours, Miss Lane?" stops Lois cold; blindsided like a field mouse under an owl's talons, her heel sideslips and she stumbles, "Wh… What?"

Katherine dives to catch her, and her poppy-red lips graze Lois's ear, "Jason – your son --. She slithers her ebony gaze toward Superman, and Lois's eyes follow. "-- and yours."

Regaining her balance, Lois flashes a look at Kitty that would bore a hole between her eyes -- if Lois had been born on a certain previously exploded planet. It takes all her journalistic skill, and interview experience -- with rapists and serial killers -- to hide her anxiety from this callow creature, challenging her very purpose for existence.

"Miss Kowalski, I don't know what recreational drug you're testing – today -- but my boy's heritage is none of your business, and you and I have nothing to discuss -- unless you want to tell me where Lex Luthor is hiding; I know you've been promised witness protection."

"Lois -- may I call you Lois? You and I both know that I have a snowball's chance in h e double hockey sticks if I turn Lex in. I figure, my only chance is with big blue over there. I mean… if he protects me."

Superman's iceberg-like persona tries hard not to melt, crack, and pour forth, but so much rumbles along below his calm surface, he fairly cracks with the strain.

_Lois can't take much more of… this, this -- I can't even __think__ the words I want to call this person._

_Thanks, Ma, for instilling such high standards in your son, I can't even express my frustrations to myself honestly in my own head. _

"Miss Kowalski, I have no more time for games – and I certainly can't be anyone's personal bodyguard."

"But, Super… sweetie, I know you worry about Lois, and… her boy. He did throw that big ol' piano…"

Kal Clark-stutters, "P… Piano?"

Lois whispers subvocally – "I was going to tell you…"

Sensing points gained, Kitty moves in. "He squished Brutus flat – he killed him – I'd hate to have to tell the authorities that a boy – who could be Superman's son – killed someone."

Lois rushes forward, her words tumbling out of her mouth in desperation, "Ridiculous – the boat lurched, the piano wasn't tied down – I saw it happen myself."

Standing between the two now, Kitty affects a conspiratorial air – "We're all in this together now, aren't we?" — an idea, which sits like lead in Lois's stomach, and green K in Kal's.

As Kitty speaks, she sidles up to Superman, insinuating herself in his space. "I told that exact thing to Lex – he was so eager to believe me. Supes, honey, aren't you glad – I got him off your back – see, he thinks you're some big ol' bad alien… thing -- like a bug he should squash. He could never believe… that you… and a girl… could, um you know…"

He looks at Lois, over Kitty's head, but her mask is back on. _She trusts me – I don't deserve her._

Lois shakes her head as if this is all so ridiculous, and breaks the silence, "Kitty, it's late – speaking of Jason, I have to get home to him; let's talk tomorrow, okay? Perhaps your meds will have worn off, and the world will be a little more… normal – no alien progeny, no outlandish blackmail scheme – just cooperation with the authorities to avoid jail time."

Kitty tilts her head, shivers in the chill air and squints, tiny wheels working. Pursing her lips, she nods and turns without a word. As she reaches the door, she stands backlit, facing her opponents. "Okay, but I'll expect you to show – both of you. This isn't finished – I know I'm right, and I know you want me to keep my mouth shut."

As Kitty disappears into the stairwell, Superman senses Lois's heartbeat quicken with adrenaline, and he watches her carefully as her eyes, brimming, meet his._ Lois, the lioness, is ready to defend what is hers, and disembowelling the enemy is par for the course._

"Katherine Kowalski had better watch her step," the mother of his child mutters.

_--------------------------------------------------_

"Kent, my office," Perry's deep voice breaks through the comforting background noise of the tapping of keyboards, and the steady drone of voices – inside the Daily Planet office, and out in the city.

A forlorn perusal of Lois's workspace gives Clark no comfort. Instead of thrilling him, her pure belief in his truthfulness, and inability to let her down, makes him sick to his stomach. _Better get up before she gets back from the courthouse and catches me here -- and I have to lie __again,__ about something else._

Sighing, he lurches up, catching the edge of her desk with one knee. He pinches the corner melamine moulding, between forefinger and thumb, before it can catapult across the bullpen. _Lucky save._

"Kent... now!"

Clark crosses the open area between desks -- his feet noiseless on the worn grey carpet, his co-worker Gil shaking his head at the typical Clarkian display.

"You w-wanted to see me, Chief?" Clark barely squeaks out, hunching his frame within his too-large tweed. The effect -- one of a scrawnier man, whose lack of fitness has resulted in poor posture.

"Get in here, Clark; we need to talk." Perry, uncharacteristically enigmatic, allows a slight smile to reach his eyes.

_He… looks downright friendly. __This is __not__ right -- not __normal._

"You okay, Mr. White?"

"Me? Never better – how are you… Clark?"

"Um, me?" Clark responds. "Um… fine, I guess… uh."

"Before we talk – Kent, uh… Clark, is there anything you wanted to tell me?"

"Tell you, sir?" Clark's voice takes an exaggerated upturn at the end. _Great… I'm in full dork mode today – tone it down, Kal._

"Clark… you seem nervous…"

_Nervous -- __ha -- __terrified__ is more like it. _

"Nervous, sir?"

"Yes… and could you stop answering my questions with a question? It's infuriating."

"Question, sir? Uh, I mean, no. Sure. I mean, yes sir."

_Good one._

"Look, Clark… relax. What's on your mind?"

Clark runs his hand through his hair and sits down without preamble, across from Perry. "Chief, I want to do a series of articles. Uh, on a concern I… have."

Perry looks disappointed, and hesitates. Clark watches him closely and Perry avoids his eyes.

_That was… odd_.

"Spit it out Kent." His sudden bark makes Clark jump.

_This is not the right time – he's in a weird mood __— preoccupied._

Another bark. "What is it?"

Clark swallows, closes his eyes and deeply intones, "Um… uh, the… um, g-greenhouse effect…" Followed by a more in-character squeak, "Global warming?"

Perry rolls his eyes. "Oh, Clark… that's a dead issue – it's a standoff between the tree huggers and the bureaucrats. And now the politicians are jumping on the bandwagon; look at Al Gore…"

"Well… Perry, his uh… documentary won an Academy Award--"

Perry waves his unlit stogie in the air like he's batting a swarm of mosquitoes. "—and some say it's not scientifically accurate… that he has a political agenda."

"How is it political to have an argument against a political bureaucracy… covering up an inconvenient truth?

"Cute Kent, cute – I see you've got your tag line written already."

"Perry, I'm not trying to sell toothpaste here -- just give me a chance to air the ideas; look at the increase of world-wide natural disasters in only the last two years."

"Clark, I have one question for you. If this is so important, why don't you do something about it?"

"That's just it Chief, I want to. I --"

"No. I mean… why don't YOU do something?"

"Wha… what do you mean?"

"Why don't you do something… **Superman**."

TBC

Please review, thanks:)


	11. Worthy

**Once again, thanks for reading and reviewing. My excuse for the few and far-between chapter updates is below (believe it or else, as my dear Dad used to say)**

**Disclaimer: Superman and his fellow characters are the property of Warner Bros. Studios and DC Comics and created by Joe Shuster and Jerry Siegel.**

**The fact that Supes is way too busy lately to send me updates, much less visit is beside the point. I fear the Fortress Fax may be spitting out crystal communiques from Moi à ce moment. **

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11 Worthy

"Ch… Chief, what are you…?" Clark splutters, while he knocks over the pen cup and clips Perry's travel mug as a distraction, then does a dive tackle to catch it before it stains his boss's shirt.

_This is it__. No amount of fumbles will win me __this__ touchdown. I guess you were right dad; I wasn't sent here to play football._

Perry watches Clark's antics with a knowing smile and a twinkle in his eye. He leans back into his ancient leather chair, which creaks in seeming satisfaction. "Genius, Clark. An act worthy of an Oscar -- but I'm on to you."

Clark makes eye contact with Perry, and stops – in fact, he is so still, Perry finds himself staring at Clark's neck, looking for a pulse.

"Kent -- relax, you won't be tomorrow's front page."

Sea-blue eyes narrow and Kal dips his head for a second, slowly breathing out an unknowable, near physical, burden. Palpable, and with its own life, it is a tangible presence in the room with them.

Perry observes the transformation in his mild-mannered employee with frank amazement. Clark seems to expand in height and width, and his expression relaxes -- but at the same time, a weight seems to settle behind his eyes. He lets out another long slow breath, lowers his eyelids, and sits down low in the chair across from Perry's desk.

Now revealed as Kal-El, he is larger than Clark -- larger than life… but deflated, like an Olympic runner who's lost his most recent race.

Then, Clark looks up at Perry, alien orbs meeting rheumy eyes; eyes cataloguing features and characteristics -- in a whip sharp brain that wonders how anyone could miss this – something so obvious…

"Great Caesar's Ghost."

Clark cracks a resigned smile and removes his glasses. Pinching the bridge of his nose as if he senses the onset of a migraine, he twists around in his chair and squints at the blind-covered windows of Perry's office. After taking a moment to assure their privacy, he turns back to his boss and slumps deeper into the too-small chair, defeated. Examining his glasses as if they alone betrayed his secret and now need replacing, Clark sighs, "When did you --?"

Like a slippery frog jumping from a child's grasp, Perry's revelation tumbles out. "-- The Globe – when it fell… when you saved me -- never having seen Superman in person -- so to speak…"

With a smile as wide as a Kansas cornfield, Perry gestures in the air -- as if the fact that Superman hides behind a pair of horn rims should be obvious to anyone.

"…It was YOU – Good Heavens man – YOU."

The senior editor rubs his thumb and fingers in tiny circles -- as if tasting the idea, "It turned a key in my mind, and connected all the clues that I must have been jotting down in my mental notebook."

Barely making a sound, Clark mouths "mental notebook" and is drawn to Perry's charismatic storytelling.

"There are lots of places in the world – situations -- where a pencil, and a paper notebook are a liability." Perry taps his temple. "No one can confiscate a photographic memory."

Clark nods, appraising Perry with a newfound wariness and feels apprehension nibble at the nape of his neck. He affects a smile, keeping his cards close to his chest.

_How__ much CAN I trust a trial-by-warfare reporter like this man? Do I really know Perry -- and what his moral limits are?_

_I could be the story of the century – of a lifetime._

Perry smiles back, innocent of Kal's worries, pleased with his investigative coup. He heaves himself up out of his chair, and comes around the desk to face his prize. Leaning on the edge, and clasping his large hands in his lap, Perry tilts his head and frowns,

"Speaking of which, why do you bother?"

_Oh, God – here it comes._

"Wh-what?"

The older man invades Kal's space and grabs a fistful of second-hand tweed jacket.

"This, 'Clark' persona -- these… awful suits…"

_Uh__, oh -- Perry's getting that… look – the same one Pete got when he found out. I'm no longer one of his star reporters; I'm not even Clark. I'm a bug – a sentient insect, but a bug none the less. _

_I hate this_

"Chief, uh… Perry, this is me, Clark, just a farm boy who wanted to grow up to be a journalist."

Perry looks incredulous and splutters, "Pshaw. I'm not stupid, Cla – Superman. You can't fool me…"

Leaning towards his captive subject, Perry grips Clark's arms and squeezes, marvelling at the intransigence of the iron hard flesh.

"Good gravy, man, you're a GOD – you can lift mountains -- why hang around a newsroom and spend hours doing this… this trivial labour?"

_He thinks I'm __humouring__ him? _

_This is __so__ much worse than I thought… I wonder if anyone else--?_

Clark nods and slowly puts his glasses back on. He sits as low as he can in the chair and looks up at Perry, adjusting the frames on his face as if he needs the prescription to better see Perry's incredulous expression.

"Chief, I am a reporter at the greatest Metropolitan newspaper in the world… and you are my boss. I look up to you – for guidance, and focus… and for your wisdom.

I'm not even thirty years old and I'm holding down two jobs – one of them just happens to be Superman."

Perry stifles a chuckle and shakes his head. He stands up and goes to turn away from Clark, when he feels a gentle hand on his arm stopping his movement. He looks up to meet Clark's gaze and sees a vulnerability he had assumed was an act.

Clark's voice is small. "I could use your help here."

A sea change shift flits across the senior editors features and he waits for the next words, expecting nothing.

"Perry, I am not a God – nowhere near – He made me -- same as you -- just on a different planet."

Perry pushes himself off the edge of the desk and goes over to his window to gaze out at the Metropolis skyline.

"That's a big sky out there – a big world… but, I guess… you know that…" After a moment, he turns, looks at Clark with narrowed eyes, and opens a drawer of his desk, pulling out a cigar. He settles down in his chair and opens the desk drawers, searching for the matches.

Not able to stand the tension, Clark x-rays the desk, "Top left hand drawer under the false bottom."

His boss freezes for a second and then opens the drawer in slow motion. His eyebrows climb when the innocent verification of his suspicions – a single pack of matches -- rests in his right palm, his left hand still holding the thin sliver of wood constituting the magic trick of the secret compartment.

Clark watches while Perry lights up and takes a long drag.

An uncomfortable silence settles over them along with the cigar smoke curling about their heads. Perry breaks it with a chuckle, "Huh -- so, um does Lois --?"

Clark jumps to his feet and whispers with intensity, as if Lois may have developed super hearing in the last five minutes, "No -- and please, chief, no one knows. My mother's safety depends on – Gosh, Perry, please don't fire me."

His boss coughs and sputters in surprise, half-choking on a flake of tobacco come loose from his cigar. "Fire you -- I should give you a raise! Fastest typist, huh… figures."

Clark, near panicked, raises his voice, "No, Perry, don't draw attention to me. This is my… normal me -- well, the clumsiness is more, just fun – sometimes not, but, I love my job -- you can't treat me any differently."

Perry heaves himself to a standing position facing Clark and grips both his biceps with his wide ink-stained hands but this time his grasp is friendly, rather than testing. Almost as tall as the younger man, he gives him a reassuring shake and holds him in place while he speaks.

"Heavens, boy, don't worry. We all love you here – Clark and --" he adds in a stage-whisper, "-- Superman."

With a solemn nod and a wink, Perry reaches both hands up to Clark's face and gives his jaw line a soft tap. A wide smile of wonder stretches his Godfather-like visage and he murmurs, "Great. Caesar's. Ghost. You are Superman; that skin of yours is like solid rock."

A loud crash out in the newsroom makes both men whirl around.

_I was distracted – Perry distracted me._

_Lois._

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_TBC Please remember to review :)_


	12. The Reveal

Short and sweet, everyone, and, for the first time, I was inspired to change direction because of reviews (thanks mistressbabette 51 and jj the elusive.)

RL has been heavy and tough to write around. But now that summer's here, and Kal has promised he will visit more, I may be able to update more often. I know my slow writing has eliminated me from the running in htbthomas's movieverse contest, but at least I'm in fine company with Tandrelmairon and her fab AU fics. All the best to the nominees -- you are all great at what you do. Thanks for the inspiration and the entertainment.

**Disclaimer: Superman and his fellow characters are the property of Warner Bros. Studios and DC Comics and created by Joe Shuster and Jerry Siegel.**

The fact that I've run out of clever comments to write about my Kryptonian cousin is beside the point.

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12 The Reveal

"He-elp, I need help," Lois bellows; her voice large and frantic in Clark's ear, his sensitive hearing a liability, doubling his anxiety.

Clark races to her side -- at a slightly faster than human rate -- with Perry lumbering along behind. He lets out a whimper when he sees Lois pinned underneath one of the ancient filing cabinets that encircle her desk. He quickly x-rays the metal, and is relieved to see that she is in one undamaged piece.

Perry and Clark glance at each other, "Thank goodness it's empty, Clark," Perry says. "You should be able to lift it off of her easily; here, I'll brace the corner and you haul it up."

Clark blinks – the unexpected gift, to protect his identity, appreciated more than his boss can know.

"Thank you, uh, Chief."

Heaving the creaky metal cabinet, Clark makes appropriate grunting sounds and tries to will himself to sweat, to no avail, but he does a good job of pulling a face, remembering what it felt to lift New Krypton, and allowing a little of that level of strain to show.

_I should be more trusting of my friends in the future – thanks, Perry; maybe this __won't__ be so bad. _

Lois scoots herself out from under the cabinet, a wary look on her face that doesn't escape Clark's perusal.

"Lois what were you trying to do?" _Yes, what were you doing?_

"I wanted to move that cabinet – it's been cluttering up my work area."

"Lois, you're just lucky it landed on the corner of your desk… it stopped short of crushing you – Goodness, Lois, you live with clutter… it never bothered you before."

_God help me… I'm babbling__. Calm down, Kent, she's okay._

Lois grins a lopsided one, and looks at Clark from under smudged lashes.

"Nice to know you care so much… Smallville."

Clark's blush is not missed by Perry, who shakes his head in a _he's got it bad_ manner. Then, a frown interrupts Perry's enjoyment of the young man's discomfiture, and he mutters to himself, "Jason."

Clark, still fussing over Lois, misses Perry's non-sequitor and brushes dust off Lois's skirt. In full-dork manner, Clark makes contact with her leg… and her buttock… Her eyes flash in warning, and she slaps his hand away. He shrinks backward, adjusts his glasses, and points at the cabinet's carcass, abandoned in the middle of the Daily Planet bullpen floor like the symbol of obsolescence for all pre-computer technology it is.

He ventures another gentle gibe, risking another swat.

"I could have done this for you, y'know."

"Yes, of course – you could… well, I wanted to move it – I thought I… could…" The quickened pulse, that only Clark can discern, forecasts the oncoming dissolution of Lois's cover. _That which she never allows others to see,_ _will soon be fodder for the masses -- if the high pink splotches on her cheekbones have their way._

_This thing with Kitty... is too much for her._

Clark looks into her eyes, his voice deepening in his seriousness.

"Lois, let's get you to a doctor and get you checked out."

Lois wrenches away from him to grab her dignity back, "Clark…"

"I won't take no for an answer," he Kal-voices, not caring that he may be giving himself away.

Wanting to be a part of what he perceives as a marvellous subterfuge, but unsure of its purpose, Perry jumps in, "Lois, why don't you go with Clark – make sure you're okay. We'll get rid of this thing for you."

Her boss's interjection knocks Lois off her game, and she shakes her head and purses her lips, looks at both men as if they had planned the whole thing – falling filing cabinet, and all.

"Hhhmm, okay, I give up."

Both Clark and Perry try to help her to her feet, but she pulls her arm away like a petulant child. "I'm all right…" she swipes at her eyes with her hand – "…j-just shook up – I – need some air."

On the way to the elevators, Clark hovers -- not literally -- behind Lois, and fine-tune x-rays her, head to toe. This time, he sees a tiny stress fracture in her wrist, and chews the inside of his lip.

_Should I__… ?_

He reaches out to catch her elbow, and his fingers encircle the wrist. She winces away from him and grabs it, the surprise of the unsuspected pain like fear in her eyes – and directed at… him.

It takes all his do-it-yourself acting training to mask his hurt at the thought of her fearing him – for any reason -- and he averts his eyes.

"S-Sorry Lois – maybe you, um, broke it."

Lois blinks away the primal reaction and forms a thin smile, and the kindness of it breaks Clark's heart. Her voice is thready, but determined.

"Uh- huh --- m- maybe – fine… I'll go to make you happy."

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Outside the Emergency room exit at Metropolis General, Lois hurries ahead of Clark as if she had a train to catch. Perplexed by her behavior he tries to keep up, watching her closely.

"You o-okay Lois? You know, we were in there for over two hours and you hardly said a word the whole time. If I didn't know better, I'd think you were mad at me."

Lois stops so fast, Clark almost collides with her back, and she turns to look up at him, her chestnut hair glowing in the darkness under the sulphur lights illuminating the hospital parking lot. Seemingly finding the bandage on her wrist fascinating, Lois examines it, and speaks to him without looking back up.

"You and Perry were having quite the bonding moment – before I…"

She waves the offending appendage in the air, fingertips wiggling.

"Uh, um -- why would you think that Lois? A-actually, he was chewing me out for- uh, um…"

Lois stops breathing for a second and her eyes expand to twice their size. Her reaction stops Clark cold and, in his confusion, he panics, and in one fluid motion picks her up to carry her back to emergency. Lois looks at him askance, and thrusts her wrapped hand in his face.

"Gosh, I hope I can still type – this is kinda tight."

With her other arm, she pushes on him to let her down, but he gazes longingly at her and holds her fast.

_I can't do this, I can't be around her – with her, and NOT be… __with__ her._

Shaking a little to cover his slip, Clark lowers her to her feet and his voice trembles with emotion. "Now… Lois, l-leave it alone – you know what the doctor said – it needs to be immobilized to heal."

Lois stands, unsteady, on the wet sidewalk and stares up into Clark's eyes. He holds one elbow, reluctant to relinquish the contact, no matter how meaningless.

_Please… __see__ me… just, see __me_

Lois laughs and looks away, her turn to blush,

"Yeah, yeah – what were we talking about?"

"My, um -- talk with Perry – did you… hear any of it?"

Lois looks down and kicks a stone.

"Clark, do you know how difficult it was to pull that filing cabinet over – they have a counter-balance in them you know – like a safety feature – I had to practically climb on top of it to get it to topple. Of course, the real trick was to make sure it didn't land on me."

"Lois, what are you saying?"

"I had to get you out of there – what were you doing? You practically told him a life story – how do you know you can trust him?" This could screw things up for both of you."

_Both of you?_

"Okay, Clark, you're pretty much doing a fish impression right now."

Lois's eyes squint as she looks him over, "I should have seen it before this."

"Wh-what – Lois – what are you talking about?"

A slow smile overcomes Lois face and she reaches out -- faster than Clark, in his flustered state, can avoid -- and grabs his shirt. Giving it a furious yank, she reveals unearthly blue spandex and the edge of his insignia.

Vitriol tinges her voice, and Kal braces himself for what could be the end; the end of his hopes, the end of his happiness – the end of any future with the woman of his dreams.

Stepping up to him, she removes his glasses and throws them at his chest. "I just have one question for you – Superman…

…where is Clark?"

TBC

Please remember to review!


	13. Hidden Depths

**Ah, summer – that time that seems endless, but actually fills to overflowing with visiting, visitors, parties and sun – leaving little time for solitude with a keyboard. **

_Time flies like an arrow. Fruit flies like a banana. _

_Groucho Marx__ (1890 - 1977) _

Forgive me, I am only a Gold-K besieged Kryptonian girl with delusions of humanity, and thus, a slow typist.

The fact that Cousin Kal is back in my basement -- and floating in the pool for hours on end -- because he's avoiding Lois, is beside the point.

I had to warn him not to float above the pool, since the neighbours might talk.

**Disclaimer: Superman and his fellow characters are the property of Warner Bros. Studios and DC Comics and created by Joe Shuster and Jerry Siegel.**

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13 Hidden Depths

Set into sharp relief under the tall, salmon-colour light standards in the hospital parking lot, Superman's famous insignia peeks out from Clark's open shirt. The odd sight, a kind of Superhero nakedness with tie askew, transfixes Lois's gaze. Faced with her suspicions confirmed, only her stubborn will allows her to speak her mind out loud.

"How could you put Clark in such danger – impersonating him like this?"

Realization startles Lois like a wet towel after a swim in warm water. Her eyes sting, and she chokes for air. "Oh, my. Clark never came back; it's been you all along. I saw things, noticed things, but, I just figured, he was – you were – different… changed."

Lois takes a step back, and stares at Clark as if he were a stranger ransacking her bedroom.

"You're spying on me – is that it? First, jealous of Richard, then -- this is so creepy, and not like you." She whirls on him, throwing her arms in the air, "Huh… like you? I don't even know you. His poor mother – when she finds out --"

Kal's face flushes at her mention of Martha, and Lois jumps to a conclusion he would never have imagined. Her voice cracks with apprehension, "- is he even alive?"

"Lois, how could you think that I…." Clark's body sags, and his suit swallows him whole. He makes a move towards her, but she steps back to preserve the distance between them, nods and crosses her arms in front to hug herself, her body shaking. Thus protected, she steps forward into his space and looks in his eyes.

_How can she not know?_ _All this time -- everything we've gone through - together – and now, she thinks __I'm__ the villain. _

For a time, Lois stares – as if she wants to see through him, past the Big Blue Boy Scout – beyond the God-like man she trusted. Forgetting to blink, her eyes water -- finally, her lids close, and she slowly shakes her head from side to side -- as if something she was looking for wasn't there. Clark gasps with unwanted insight.

_Of course. Most of the time, she was with __Clark__. She's friends with __him__, not __me._

Watching Lois thread her fingers through her hair to scrub her scalp, Clark recognizes one of her favourite coping behaviours – the one that telegraphs her conscious effort to think – to sort information -- and decide on the appropriate response, preferably action.

She releases a breath with his name on it, "Superman."

A rapid shake of her head seems to realign her thoughts, and she continues in a stronger voice, "Does he even know you are doing this?"

Before Lois can fly into another signature rant, Clark whirls into his uniform at super speed, scoops her up, and flies her straight to the roof of the Daily Planet building -- where he sets her down gently, and then steps back into the shadow of the new Globe. The dappled gloom gives him the courage to speak to her.

_I have __to – to, somehow, salvage this mess. Help me, father._

"Lois – Clark is fine — I can't explain, but you'll have to trust me -– us. This was not about you."

Clark's voice turns inward, almost a whisper, and Lois has to strain to hear.

"I would never spy on you." _Look through your window maybe, hover over your house, and listen in on your conversations… _"I have to admit, I've watched over you. And, it may seem like I, I'm always around… but Lois, I… care for you --

Lois sighs and cuts him off mid-ramble, "What on earth could you have to do that involves Clark Kent? God… when we flew – that first interview after you came back -- you pretended you didn't know who Clark was; you are such a liar."

_You have no idea._

"Lois, it's not like that – Clark is safe, he needs me to… be him. I can't explain without putting him… and his mother, in danger."

_This is so messed up._

"Danger? No, "Kal", or whatever you want me to call you, this is not going away. Perry thinks Clark Kent is Superman, for Pete' sake. How could he be in any more danger than he is right now? If Perry lets that information leak, all of Clark's loved ones will be at risk of retaliation by Superman's enemies… uh, Lex Luthor springs to mind."

"Yes… but, believe me, Lois, he couldn't be safer."

Lois rolls her eyes, and Clark bats for a home run.

"Um – it was his idea."

_Good one__, Kent – blame yourself – I mean, the other guy. _

On cue, Lois breaks into another tirade, "His idea?? I'll kill him – is it for a scoop -- or a byline? I'll KILL him, I swear. You don't know, Superman, Clark can't take care of himself – he needs a keeper; please… tell me he's safe at the Fortress, at least?"

Superman steps out of the shadow, shrugs, and grins -- hoping Lois will interpret his behaviour as an answer. Her arch eye roll, and slowing heart rate, make him breathe easier – for the moment.

He takes a hesitant step towards her, all his future happiness -- his purpose in life, poised on what her answer will be to his next question. When they are close enough to kiss, Clark dips his head to look in Lois's eyes, fearful of what may lie in their hazel depths. "Are we -- okay?" He reaches a hand out to touch her arm, but she pulls back.

Lois hisses, "O-kay? Why didn't you tell me?"

Completely cowed now, Clark cannot face her and lie, so he looks to his boots for support. "F-for all the reasons you just gave – his… safety, his Mom's safety…"

Lois shakes her head slowly, takes Kal's large hands in her own, and gives them a reassuring squeeze. "But you could've trusted me, you know that."

"It's… more than that Lois – much more -- and I fear you'll hate me for it. This knowledge is dangerous to you too, and I'm reluctant to put you out there – I don't want to risk losing you. Moreover, we have to consider Jason. He is very important to me." _and the world…_

Squeezing his hands again, Lois persists.

"Kal, where is Clark?"

As if in answer to her question, Superman whips his head around, and Lois imagines that the tension in his face reveals his subterfuge. However, when his eyes glaze over, and a pulsing vein mars his noble forehead, she worries there are bigger things afoot than her concern for Clark. "Superman… what's wrong?"

Clark barely registers Lois's voice, even her heartbeat is muffled, masked by a voice he'd hoped never to hear again, transmuted through the shrill and tinny subsonic wave.

"SUPERMAN – I KNOW YOU CAN HEAR ME – HI. LEX LUTHOR HERE, PUTTING IN A FEW MOBILE MINUTES WITH MY FAVOURITE WIRELESS CARRIER – YOUR SUPER-HEARING. YOU KNOW KITTY, DON'T YOU? A SILLY GIRL, AND NOT ONE OF MY FAVOURITE PEOPLE LATELY. WELL, SHE WENT BEHND MY BACK, SUPERMAN, AND I DON'T LIKE THAT -- NOT ONE BIT. SHE THOUGHT SHE COULD DO A LITTLE END RUN ON YOURS TRULY. SINCE I KNOW YOU CAN'T RESIST, I'M GOING TO END HER SHORT, AND VIRTUALLY USELESS, LIFE UNLESS YOU PRESENT YOURSELF AT A PLACE AND TIME OF MY CHOOSING. CAPISCE? I'LL BE IN TOUCH."

Worry paints Lois's features a kinder colour, and her voice follows suit, "S - Superman?"

Clark blinks and looks at her, "Sorry, Lois – where were we?"

"I uh, was worried about… Clark – where is he?"

_I can't…_

"He's safe Lois – trust me." Taking Lois's hands, Clark's eyes try to convey all his regret for his perceived actions. _I want to stay, I want… to tell you_.

"I have to go."

The cool night air stirs as if beckoning him to take flight, and he moves to leave her, but Lois does not release his hand. "There's something you're not telling me – I mean there's a lot you aren't telling me, but I wish…"

Clark pulls her hand to his lips, pressing a sweet kiss there, and with a small squeeze, releases her and steps up onto the roof parapet.

"I'm sorry – I have to -- why don't you go home to Jason – I'll drop by after… work, okay?"

For the first time since her revelation, Lois smiles at him and, as he rises into the crisp night sky, she calls after him. "Ok, but you're not off the hook – I'm still mad at you about this whole impersonation thing."

Lois's voice echoes in her ears, and she feels a pang of guilt -- a fear of being overheard -- a new feeling she senses may become commonplace in her near future.

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Superman lands at a run outside the safe house, and the layers of brick wall peel back under his x-ray vision. He realizes he is holding his breath, and lets it out when he sees Kitty, unhurt, reclining on the couch and flipping through a magazine.

He greets the on duty plainclothes police officer, and enters the livingroom, his colours brightening the drab interior.

"Kitty… Katherine, we have to leave."

"Superman?" Kitty says needlessly. She did not expect him, and, clearly, does not believe her eyes.

"No time. Lex is right behind me, and I know of only one place you'll be safe."

The cop steps up, and touches Superman on the arm – an intimate gesture by an apparent stranger, but one, Clark has noted, that happens more often since he fell from the sky and landed on an operating table. It moves him each time it happens, so he turns a less guarded face to the officer, who hesitates under his powerful gaze.

"Um, uh… Superman – she needs to be at the courthouse at 10:00 am tomorrow morning. You too."

Clark smiles his reassurance, and his tone is gentle, "Don't worry officer, we'll be there."

Giving a nod to the policeman, Clark leads Kitty outside. Once there, in one fluid motion, he goes straight up and pierces the lowest cloud layer, where he pauses. Kitty shivers, he frowns slightly, and his eyes ask a mute question -- which she answers with a shivery nod. His eidetic memory replays a similar moment he shared with Lois, and a pang of guilt sticks him in the chest. He avoids eye contact with Kitty while he removes his cape and wraps it around her shoulders. He pays close attention to securing it, while she drinks in his preternatural features.

"So… where are we going, handsome?" Kitty watches Superman's face and a look of puzzlement washes over hers, as his gaze grows intent. He holds her out at arm's length from him, turning her body in the air, while his eyes follow along the line of her form wrapped in his cape. Even for Kitty, this inspection is unusual, and she giggles nervously. "See anything you like, Honey?"

Superman meets her gaze, and she swears there are tiny flames smouldering in their depths.

"Katherine,"

"Yes?" she whispers.

"I-I'm sorry, but this may hurt a bit. Hold very still."

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TBC

Don't forget to review!


	14. Vengeful Truth

Sorry this update took a while -- but, then again, it's a long chapter, and, if you knew my RL, you'd be merciful.

Disclaimer: Superman and his fellow characters are the property of Warner Bros. Studios and DC Comics, and created by Joe Shuster and Jerry Siegel. This whole darn plot, each turn of phrase and hackneyed metaphor is mine, and I claim all possible ownership under the sun.

By Rao.

Clark went home. My basement is empty, save for apple pie crumbs and empty ketchup bottles. oh, and a ripped super-suit (don't ask).

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14. Vengeful Truth

Suspended high above the city, beyond the limit of rooftop sky cams, nestled in a narrow pocket of the heavens not tracked by satellite, Kitty writhes in Superman's grip -- despite his advice to stay still.

"Katherine, don't move – KITTY!"

His use of the familiar nickname -- in a tone not unlike Lex's -- freezes her for only a moment. Mesmerized, she watches his eyes -- fire swirling in indigo depths, focusing, coalescing. With inhuman precision, Superman performs a pinpoint laser–exfoliation of the flesh of her right bicep. Kitty winces, the sensation a reminder of childhood run-ins with lit cigarettes –- an expression of her father's love. But this… nowhere near the level of that pain.

Lex had a habit of threatening her with his cigar – lucky for him he'd never burned her…

_What's wrong with her__? That couldn't have hurt… much. Gosh, super-mind-reading would sure come in handy right now… _"Katherine, you okay? – you seemed miles away there; I'm sorry, but we're not done yet -- this will pick… a bit." Holding her by the waist with one hand, he catches the rim of the device with the edge of his superhard fingernail, and flicks it free of her skin.

"Et, Voila."

The tiny object glitters in the twilight.

Kitty tries to twist her arm to see the damage, "Ow… oo… you speak French?" distracted by his silky Parisian accent, her discomfort takes a backseat to curiosity.

"A-actually, yes, I do… sorry about that – your arm, but it couldn't wait."

Hugging closer to him, her eyes glittering in the darkness, Kitty purrs, "S'okay … talk some more French to me…"

_Why do girls always want me to speak French? __I'll have to ask Mom next time I see her. _Superman settles an affectionate eye on Katherine, hoping she will be honest in answer to his query. "J'espère que tu as un bon coeur."

"What does that mean —- something about my heart, right?"

_Hmm, not so dumb – just as I thought…_"I hope you have a good… heart. Um, I mean, emotionally… not… physically…"

Kitty looks at Superman, and regret shadows her dark eyes. "It's okay – I know what you mean." She takes a deep breath and shrugs out a bitter little laugh, with a question attached. Then the mask drops in place, and confusion paints naïve features as seamlessly as her expensive cosmetics. "S-so Superman – what is that? It looks like a… a sequin, what was it doing in my arm?"

He raises his eyebrows, a tiny frown marring his smooth forehead – the line disappearing under the curl.

_Too bad__, I'd hoped… _"Uh, it does look like a sequin, Ki -- uh, Katherine. However, it's actually a sophisticated transdermal--"

Doll-like eyes, adept in distraction and subterfuge, bat their lashes adroitly, sure of their effect.

"-- trans-what?"

Unfazed, Superman sees through her deception and, with waning hope, plays along. "That's 'under the skin' – a tracking device. Probably works with GPS technology, easily obtainable."

"GPS?"

_Oh, this is too much…_"Well, anyone can be tracked with GPS via their cell phone – as long as it's turned on, and enabled – still giving the owner some control over being found."

_Thank goodness, or Perry may have wondered why Clark was 50,000 feet over the Atlantic at lunch hour yesterday. _

…_Except that now, Perry KNOWS why._

Clark's abrupt silence, as they glide like ghosts northward, worries Kitty. "Lex," she whispers.

She twists in his secure grip and shakes him by the shoulder, but he shrugs off her touch. Out of character, she punches him in the same spot, with enough energy to knock herself off-balance. "Superman!"

Her antics get his attention, and Clark tightens his grip on her waist. He manages to look both irritated with her, and embarrassed at his lapse in concentration.

"Oh, sorry, Katherine, I was… distracted – a little Vitamin E cream on that and you should be good – not even a scar, okay?" _Good come-back, Clark._

"Okay – it's only a tiny scratch." Kitty shivers, and Superman rolls his eyes.

"What was I thinking – Katherine, you do fluster me."

"Well, I guess that's something." Doe eyes do their level best to seduce him, but he just smiles his best paternal one back.

"You're cold… here." he unclips his cape with his left hand without letting her go with his right. Then, in one smooth move that any matador would kill for, enfolds her in the voluminous mantle, the soft wool-like lining effectively shutting out the frigid air.

Katherine looks into his eyes with an intensity that finally embarrasses the farm-boy in him. He smiles back at her, and his heart sinks in his chest as he realizes how much their close proximity affects her. The shimmering full moon exacerbates the situation, and he senses her slow perusal of his features and her tiny fluttering heart. A ghost of a blush colours his cheeks and he turns away, discomfited at her obvious attraction to him.

She reaches up to touch his jaw, her forefinger bringing his face back to hers. An ineffable sadness comes to rest in the set of her jaw, and at the corners of her eyes -- where the moisture of tears threaten to fall.

"Superman, why can't I get one of the good guys?"

He is taken aback by her question.

_So__ much like poor Ms.Tessmacher_ _– she disappeared off the face of the earth, after Lex's fascination faded -- If I have anything to do with it, you will not suffer the same fate._

"Oh, Katherine, I'm s-sorry, but I'm kind of… taken."

The tiniest flutter of eyelash the only betrayal of her disappointment, Kitty rolls her eyes, and her smile hardens. "…I know. But, a girl can dream, can't she?"

Clark/Superman/Kal has no idea how to respond. Nothing in his experience has taught him what to do at this moment to make it right. Therefore, he puts on his hero face, and makes a show of flying being more effort than it is. Staring straight ahead, he frowns and concentrates, hoping she will think he needs to focus on what he is doing.

"It won't be much longer…"

"It's ok, I'm warm now."

Kitty stays quiet for the rest of the trip, but Superman can hear her racing heartbeat, and knows that her emotions are volatile and fragile.

Their flight ends sooner than she would like, languishing in his arms – sad, but somehow happy -- lost, but temporarily found. Then, she lets out a gasp of disappointment when she sees their destination -- the Fortress, in all its original crystal glory, looming on the horizon.

"Aw, Superman, Lex knows where your house is."

Superman shakes his head, just a tiny movement, as if he is about to explain something to a child.

"That no longer matters, Katherine…" a thrill trickles through Kitty, hearing her hero say her proper name. She fights to hide her true feelings, unaware that he is monitoring her heartbeat.

As they approach the edifice, bright laser-like beams shoot out from all sides of the entrance, tracing over both their forms with a deliberate specificity. The insectile nature of the movement makes Kitty shiver, and search Superman's face for an explanation. He seems unaffected by the light show, so she tries to relax and put her trust in him.

He leaves her sitting on a warm crystal bench, still cuddled in his cape. He whispers in her ear, "…Watch," and then strides over to the console. His movement, without the flowing material, is fluid and uninhibited -- like a dancer's.

He chooses a crystal, inserts it in the console, and passes his hand over it. Kitty can't help but gasp, as a diffused light starts at the base of the walls, crawls up to the tips of the crystal formations high over their heads, and suffuses the entire structure in its sapphire luminosity. She looks at Superman, and wonders if her own skin glows like his under the unearthly illumination.

"You aren't human… are you?"

Kitty's unexpected comment shocks Kal-El, and for a moment he thinks he may cry, but then his expression clears, and a sad smile captures his eyes. "No, I'm not. The… AI, and I, found a… kind of Kryptonian force field in the data banks. My father… didn't mention it -- I guess he thought it would be unnecessary."

"He didn't count on Lex… I guess." Kitty subvocalizes.

"No, I guess not." Superman answers her, startling her, so she jumps a little. "Sorry, I hear pretty well…"

"I… I know, I read all the articles."

Kitty hugs the cape to her, and looks at her toes.

"I'm your biggest fan…"

_Now what is she up to?_

Superman laughs, "You're kidding."

The damage done, the words tumble out of Katherine, and Clark would swear he was listening to a 14-year old raving about her favourite rock star.

"No, um… back in my old apartment I have scrapbooks… I thought I'd get to meet you… if I hooked up with Lex. I had no idea he was so…"

"Insane?"

"Yeah."

Superman stuffs both fists in his sides and throws his head back. He laughs so hard, Kitty, out of old habit, looks around for a way out. Finding none, and relaxing because she remembers just who this is -- laughing like a maniac -- she cocks her head to one side, and watches him laugh, her eyes shining, memorizing every little detail for later.

---------------------------------------------------

Kal floats down to Lois's balcony, carrying a change of clothes in one arm. His hearing monitoring Kitty's heart rate from afar, reluctant to leave the job to the AI Determined to face Lois as himself, he prepares to change at super-speed, when Lois steps out of the shadows and startles him. _Okay AI, keep an eye on her – I'm too busy now._

"So, you're here – that means she's safe, right?" Lois looks at him expectantly, and he startles her right back by stifling a giggle.

"I'm sorry?" Clark's appearance -- in the suit, holding a bundle of clothes -- is incongruous, to say the least, and his eyes exude innocence, but Lois can read what's really there.

Kitty Kowalski – c'mon Cla uh-Kal, I have my sources. I knew where you went a half-hour after you left me.

Clark lets out a breath and relaxes, one less thing to hide. "Pretty much – for the moment -- I brought her to the Fortress."

"The… Fortress." Lois watches tears start to form in his eyes, as repressed hilarity overcomes the superhero.

He drops his clothes on the patio table, and slumps in the too-small wrought iron chair. "Lois – it… not… like… that – oh,Ican'ttalk" The chair punctuates each word with a squeak, and Clark can't stop laughing. _Kitty is my biggest fan… Lois is… jealous -- my life… is ridiculous. _

Desperate for relief, he leans forward, arms resting on his thighs and hangs his head between his legs. Slowing down his breathing, the laughter reduces to hiccups and finally stops. Lois steps forward and places a tentative hand on his back.

"Did I say something funny?"

Clark looks up at her, eyes shining, and a consuming sensation surges through Lois like a hot tidal wave. He shakes his head no, and she knows he wouldn't lie to her -- in the same way she knows that overwhelming sensation is love. For him. Despite Clark. With a start, she realizes that she has never felt this for anyone else, not even Richard.

Her mind clearing in the night air, Lois decides to prioritize – business first. "But, Lex knows--"

Without looking at her, Clark waves his hands in the air, "It's okay – I got an alarm system."

Lois looks at him with disbelief, and then, when Clark tilts his head to look at her -- and grins, Lois realizes he's teasing her – like he used to.

"Oh – well, that's… great. So, what's next?"

"Well, it would be finished -- if Luthor was under lock and key -- but he might as well be back on Krypton – I can't even track him. He's a scientist, and I'm not – he knows more about hiding out than I do – for all I know he's in a remote lead-lined bunker. I have to do a lot of catch-up to get up to speed here; he's had five years head start…"

"At least… he's been charged in absentia, and Ms. Kowalski can testify, and then get a new identity."

"But, I'll have to watch over her – Lex had implanted a tracking device under her skin. I'm sure he had a plan B in place – the next puzzle."

They look at each other, and Lois pulls a Mona Lisa smile. She plops herself down, across from Kal, and plants her elbows on the table. Playfully resting her cheekbones on her fists, she regards him with sparkling eyes. Now she feels like laughing. She looks from his face, to the pile of clothes, and back to his eyes, which by now have sobered.

He blinks.

His eyes are glued to her movement, as she fishes through the pile of clothes, looking for… the glasses. Gripping his horn rims between two fingers, Lois dangles them at Clark. "Guh, it's weird how much you look like him."

Clark looks down at his insignia. He places his hand to cover it, as if nothing was there; he crosses his legs and squirms, feeling weirdly naked.

"Huh, um… well."

Lois leans closer to him, and peers into his eyes.

"Kal -- you guys must be twins."

Lois hands him back the glasses, and Clark sets them down, fumbling as they clatter to the patio. Ducking his head under the table to retrieve them, he blurts out, "Yeah, I guess would explain a lot – we both came down to earth in the same rocket ship when we were only three years old."

Lois yelps, "What --- what… a rocket… ship?"

Still under the table, Clark looks up, and face to face with Lois's knees, he jumps up. But the table, being in the way, and no match for his head, takes off. They watch it fly a short distance, stopping with an ear-splitting clang on the stone edge of the balcony.

_Oops, I guess I never told her that – __way to escalate the crisis, Kent._

Clark stands up, and tries to put some distance between them, but Lois runs up to him, and pokes him in the chest with her forefinger, pinning him to the brick wall. The insignia distracts her for a moment. Shaking her head, she continues her interrogation of the hero.

"You were raised here on earth."

Clark slides down the brick, to sit on the patio, defeated.

"Um, yeah, – on a farm."

Now, Lois is pacing, working up a sweat -- like a prizefighter warming up for the big fight.

_This is __not__ good – she's closing for the kill – and I'm the big game…_

Lois clarifies, "Like… Clark."

_Small answers – don't volunteer any information__, Kent._

He mumbles, "Pretty much."

"You're going to tell me next, that you guys knew each other."

Clark shrugs, knowing that this at least won't be a fib.

"Lifelong – far back as I can remember, actually."

"In Smallville."

"Yup."

Lois stops, shaking her head and scrubbing her hair into a tangled mat. "Wait – no way – you're nothing like him – really – you'd have nothing in common."

Offended, Clark defends himself, "I was pretty geeky in school." _Oops – pay attention – this __is__ Lois._

"Yeah, I believe that – more likely, captain of 'The Whatever' team."

Clark shakes his head and his look turns from bemused to resigned. "You really want to know?"

Lois looks about to jump out of her skin with impatience.

"Hell, yes…"

Kal gets up and moves to her, and grips both of her arms. He gives her a little shake -- as if to wake her, or shake some sense into her. "Despite the danger?"

Steely determination shines from Lois's eyes, her reporter's instinct on full alert. "Yes…"

He lets go of her arms, and steps back. Looking at her shoes, he whispers, "Promise you won't be mad?"

"Mad?" I'm mad now, no… I'm insane. Do you mean angry? I'll BE angry if you DON'T tell me NOW."

Clark pales at her outburst, even though he expected as much. A deep breath in, a breath out, a weight lifted.

"He's here."

Lois whirls around in place, her eyes searching the shadows. "Here? On my balcony? Oh, you brought him… Clark, come out--"

"-- Lois…"

"Clark – it's okay."

"Lois."

"What?"

Kal brings her hand up to his chest, his heart beating strong through her flesh, and she looks at it, then up to Clark's face. "He's here." Her own heart speeds up – a rabbit running from the fox.

As if he burnt her, Lois pulls her hand out of his grasp, and steps back. She whips her head around, but keeps her eyes glued to Superman's face as if searching for the truth.

"Clark? Come out – this isn't funny."

A strange foreboding creeps up on Kal, placing its icy hand on his heart. He watches Lois's odd behaviour, and fear replaces his feelings of relief.

"Lois, please, it's not complicated – I'm… him. I am Clark – Perry was right -- he figured it out."

Lois, looking nothing like herself, barely vocalizes her answer, "No."

"Yes – Honey… are you…"

"No." Colour drains from Lois's cheeks, and she falls straight down -- so fast, that Clark just cushions her head before it cracks on the stone. Her heartbeat is strong, but her eyes stare straight through Kal's, and he can't remember ever being so terrified.

"Lois – wake up – Lois!"

--------------------------------------------

TBC

Please don't forget to review. I've discovered how needy and desperate it is to be a writer without enough reviews to keep the blood rushing to her writing hand


	15. Thanks for the Memories

**A/N**

**Dear readers, this tale has a life of it's own. Supes is thought-casting it from another dimension (just wish he would speed it up) and I'll get it to you as fast as I can, but you know me; the updates are steady but spaced out (much like myself, I fear). It's ****good to know you are still with me -- It's been a while, but hopefully, this chappie is worth it. **

**I based Dr. Schwartz on Alvin Schwartz, creator of Bizarro, writer of many of the early Superman newspaper comic strips -- and one of my neighbours. He was 90 years old his last birthday, God bless him.**

**A note about Martha's accent; I always thought she and Jonathan should have Kansas accents (Ma and Pa Kent). I used this voice sample from the Department of Theatre and Film at the University Of Kansas as a guide. httpCOLONSLASHSLASHwebDOTkuDOTeduSLASHideaSLASHnorthamericaSLASHusaSLASHkansasSLASHkansas4DOTmp3 **

**Please forgive me if I transcribed it wrong, I meant no disrespect to The Kents or farmers in general. My own family has farmer accents, and I managed to lose mine – not on purpose. I figured Superman would have a good reason to erase his to protect his family. **

**PS It's been a year since I started this story -- thanks for sticking by me!**

_**---------------------------------------------------------**_

**15. Thanks for the Memories**

Only minutes after landing at the Kent farm, outside of Smallville, Jason is playing in the clover with Shelby back of the homestead and Clark's silver-haired mother stands on the front veranda, hands on hips in a familiar superhero pose, facing down earth's greatest champion.

For the most part, earth's greatest champion looks terrified.

In her 'special' voice, reserved for scolding in fancy restaurants, Martha pokes a finger to his insignia and lights into her son. "Clark J'rome Kent – this is some way to inform me that ah'm a Grand-mother! Thank g'ness, he's too young to have his hearin' yet, or we'd never have this out."

Clark wants to smile despite Martha's tone, revelling in her warm Kansas twang. No matter the occasion, a poignant feeling of belonging stirs in Clark's heart at the sound of her voice. It almost makes up for the sharp sense of loss he's carried since dropping all evidence of a Kansas upbringing from his own vocal patterns, to avoid being identified by dialect experts.

"I know, Mom – but… Lois is sick, and she has no family to speak of. I'm –- we're all he has."

Martha's gentle eyes belie her harsh reaction, and Clark breathes a sigh of relief. "Oh, Sweetheart, a'll keep the boy chock full of milk and apple pie till you kin come get 'im and Shelby'll keep him entertayned, a'm sure."

"Mom, you're the best." Clark scoops her up in one deft motion and hugs her tight, planting a kiss on her weathered cheek and eliciting a giggle that melts away their years apart. He sets her down on the hardpan driveway and she smoothes a wayward strand of hair into place. At that moment, Jason appears – making Clark wonder about his so-called undeveloped super senses. He hunkers down to meet him, cape pooling in the dust, and his son leaps into his arms.

Close on Jason's heels is Clark's eighteen year old golden retriever, Shelby -- demonstrating the energy of a much younger dog -- a drool-drippy ball in his mouth, and a smile on his face.

"Gramma – why does Shelby have a girl's name?" Jason's piercing blue gaze demanding an explanation for any contradiction in this old-fashioned farm universe.

Both Martha and Clark freeze at the boy's innocent question. Neither one can bring themselves to tell him that, when the first Shelby died -- her last litter of pups barely weaned, teenage Clark was inconsolable. The one male pup that insisted on washing his face of tears became Shelby the second -- named for his mother.

Who died.

Martha ruffles the boy's hair and shrugs, "Well, honey, it seemed like a good ah-dea at the time. Comeon baby, Granny'll show you the chickens."

Clark waves goodbye, watches them move off towards the barn, and speeds cross-country to watch over Lois.

-----------------------------------------------------

Sitting on a worn plastic chair in the Metropolis General waiting room, Clark tries to look inconspicuous among the non spandex-togged. _I could change –- no… she's already confused enough._

He notices his fellow occupants and observes that more than a few are expectant dads. Despite hoping for personal imminent miracles, they are staring at him. Clark coughs and looks down at his pristine boots. _Darn aura – – I must look downright shiny. _

_You'd think they'd never seen an alien before._

_Oh, right…_

Of all the people packed into the over-air-conditioned space, only one fails to notice him -- the worried girlfriend of a motorcycle crash victim.

Clark wants to tell her that her boyfriend is now in a coma, from which he won't revive. However, Kal knows it isn't his place to shoulder that particular cross.

Lost in thought, Clark's eidetic memory conjures up his most recent images of Lois – before she passed out in his arms – and he loses himself in visions of her chestnut curls and hazel eyes. His own eyes glaze over in reflection, and, one by one, the onlookers shake their heads and go back to magazines or muted conversations, now convinced the shy-seeming boy in costume is not the real thing, but a refugee from a costume party -- or a movie extra.

An hour passes.

The ebb and flow of Metropolis's injured is steady, though unseen by our hero -- engrossed in the comforting realm of his perfect recall.

Someone once said that nothing lasts forever, and that perfection doesn't exist. As if to prove this, a gangly teen boy, with a mop of brown hair -- and huge eyes to match -- settles near the grubby TV monitor. With the level of boredom reserved for a generation weaned on Ipods and Gameboys, he scans the room for stimulation – the sports channel on mute insufficient to the task -- and settles on Clark as the weird-guy-with-maximum-potential-to-be-interesting.

With a last habitual glance at the TV screen, he plops himself down in an adjacent chair to Clark.

"Nice suit –- you an actor or something?"

"Excuse me?" Startled out of his trance by the child's unexpectedly deep voice, Clark frowns, and looks at the boy; he knows he's missing something important about the exchange.

"The Super-suit. You look just like him -- not so tall though." He squints at Clark, and peruses him as if he was a big blue bug. "You're older too…"

Clark raises his brows and the corner of his mouth quirks upward. "Uh, actually --"

At that moment, the nurse at Admissions stares straight at Clark, smiles with her full set of teeth and leans forward unnecessarily to press a button. Her microphone whines to life and, breathless, she says, "Superman – the Doctor will see you now…"

As Superman stands to his full height, the young boy blinks up at him with his mouth open; and, because the kid now looks about five years old, Kal ruffles his mop of hair in farewell. "It's okay, son – everyone looks smaller -- and older -- in real life… especially when they are worried sick about a loved one."

The boy closes his mouth in a sheepish smile, and his cheeks redden, but he is obviously thrilled that the man before him is the real deal. A small woman, with messy grey hair, rushes over and shakes his shoulder, "Benny, what were you thinking?" The boy rolls his eyes at her for spoiling his moment with the hero, but she is oblivious as, in a daze, her eyes slowly travel up the length of Clark's form to rest on his face. Snapping out of it, she blurts, "S-sorry for bothering you sir."

Superman looks down at the mother and her son, and his professional persona snaps into autopilot. "He was no bother, Ma'am, just curious – that's a healthy trait. Take care now."

Superman's mask crumbles as he turns from them, his x-ray vision reaching beyond the walls of the waiting room. As the entire ER watches, Clark steels himself to meet Lois's doctor. On shaky legs, Clark pushes open, then makes his way through, the windowless double doors leading into the CATscan and MRI section of the hospital.

A tiny, ancient man, with large, bright eyes in a long face -- and a grey wisp of beard –- stands waiting by the nurse's station. He hurries up to Clark, his eagerness to meet the hero restrained by his respect for the circumstances.

"Hello, Superman, I'm Doctor Schwartz, and I will be personally handling Lois Lane's case. I understand she is a… close friend?"

Finding it difficult to say anything, Clark manages, "Um… yes, she is."

"Normally we would contact next of kin, but there is only her father, who appears to be incommunicado."

Clark sighs, and wonders how ironic that Lois, whose father is alive and well, could, for all intents and purposes, be an orphan. "General Lane, yes. He can be… hard to reach."

Considering who you are… we bent the rules a bit."

"Thank you."

An uncomfortable moment ensues, nurses' heels echoing on the polished and sterilized floors, and muted sobs through closed doors the most pervasive sounds. Superman finally takes the initiative, and breaks the tension. "Doctor, what I… need to tell you, is very… personal." He manages to convey his concern, to the sharp-eyed physician, with a glance at the bustling flow of strangers within earshot.

"Son, why don't we go in here – this is a room reserved for grieving family members." His soft New York accent barely evident, the seasoned practitioner leads Clark by the elbow to a nearby door, but Clark's sharp intake of breath makes the older man regret his choice of words. An arthritic hand gestures to the sky, "God willing, no one has died on us yet today; we will be left alone in here."

Closing the door behind him, Superman x-rays the room for security devices, and finding it clear, relaxes a bit. Doctor Schwartz could swear the man before him shrinks a good four inches in height, and he is taken aback by the enigmatic look on the superhero's face.

"Doctor, before we start, there is one important thing you must do."

"Whatever is that, Superman?"

"Call me Kal."

"Is that your real name? Mr. Kal?"

Clark manages a ghost of a smile in spite of himself, "No, just… Kal. And, we should sit down. I don't know if I have the strength to tell you this at all, much less, stand up… at the same time."

------------------------------------------------------

A half hour later, a nurse pokes her head in the door of the Family Palliative Care Room, and Doctor Schwartz raises his brows in question.

"You wanted to know if there was any change, Doctor?"

Yes, Nurse?

"None, but she seems stable now."

"Thank you; keep me informed –- on the hour."

His head heavy with worry and his hair falling forward over his furrowed brow, Clark peers up at the doctor through his bangs. The specialist watches him with undisguised compassion.

"Doctor Schwartz, what's wrong with her?"

"From what you've told me, Su – um, Kal, your… actions caused minor oxygen starvation in the hippocampus -- that resulted in a mild, retrograde amnesia."

Clark breaks eye contact with the doctor, and rises slowly to a standing position. He turns, still holding on to the back of his chair. The doctor unaware of how much effort Superman exerts not to crush it to powder in frustration.

"That… was my intent, yes – but I was assured that it would have virtually no side effects – and I was desperate to settle her mind." Kal drops his head in his hands and relinquishes his usual public composure -- the need to confess, burning a hole in his heart. "Doctor… uh, it was necessary for her to… forget certain events -- for her safety."

"Go on…"

"We were... intimate – and she… couldn't handle… sharing me."

The doctor frowns "Is this 'sharing' a Kryptonian thing – another mate, perhaps?"

Mortified by the doctor's misunderstanding, and his Midwestern morals offended, Clark blurts, "Of course not; sir… I'm a Methodist."

The doctor's eyes could not grow wider -- nor Clark's embarrassment deepen as, red-faced, he intones, "Uh, I meant sh-sharing me with… the w-world… as its protector."

Leaning towards Clark, Dr. Schwartz considers this love-struck young Methodist in the Superman uniform, and smiles his kindest smile, clasping Clark's hand in his own.

"…Kal, it may not be permanent, if the memories had become consolidated."

"Consolidated?"

"…Into her long-term memory – then stored in her neocortex."

His mind working, Kal leans in, focusing on the doctor's words, "Like… a computer."

"Yes."

Dr. Schwartz stands up, and turns to face the window.

"Superman, I would not recommend you pull this trick on anyone else, since you were obviously unaware of the possible after-effects of even slight damage to the human brain."

At the Doctor's words, Kal slides further down in his chair, his face a canvas of shock and disbelief.

"Damage?" he whispers to himself, then looks up to meet the doctor's time-worn green eyes.

"Well, yes, what did you think you did?"

"You don't know the pain she was in, doctor – depressed, miserable – I just wanted my old, carefree, Lois back…"

"I understand that."

His heart empty and aching, like a child caught bullying, he stammers his answer, "The AI in the Fortress assured me that she would not be harmed."

"This AI, obviously, is not familiar with human brains – I suspect we differ enough from your p -– uh, Kryptonians, to make this a risky procedure."

His hot tears now dropping to the tile, Kal doubles over as if in pain and rocks himself. "I would never have… NEVER hurt her – oh, G…"

The doctor approaches Clark and reaches a hand out to squeeze his shoulder, stopping the pained words. "I know, son, – and if you say you had… no choice, we all trust your judgement here."

_My judgement__…_

Superman stands up to face the doctor, swallowing his fear, "W…will she be alright, Doctor?"

"In this type of case, there is often evidence of anterograde amnesia, but, due to the minimal damage, we are hoping that Lois has been spared this."

Kal's hearing searches out Lois's heartbeat, steady and slow. Dr. Schwartz misinterprets his silence and elaborates.

"In other words, Superman, we hope that she can still form new memories. She's sleeping now, and we just have to wait till she wakes up to see where we are."

Clark looks at his guide in this horrible journey, his own face still damp with his tears. He chews his inner lip to stem the flow, and swallows the urge to break down further in front of this man who could have been his father. The doctor's kindly eyes too much for Clark to bear, he dips his head and buries his face in his arm.

-----------------------------------------------------

Clark opens his eyes and, for a moment, wonders why the rising sun is slanting in the wrong direction through his bedroom window.

_Still at the hospital –- they let me stay –- why not? I am Supe--_

"Clark?"

The heavenly voice he feared he'd never hear again – saying his name – well, one of his names, anyway.

"Lois – honey are you…?"

Gazing at him with an unfathomable expression, Lois's eyebrows flutter together in confusion, "You're…"

Then Clark's heart skips a beat when a devilish grin appears and lights Lois's eyes with merriment. "So I'm HONEY now? Fresh. What'm I doing here anyways? Did you drop me?"

"Drop you?"

As Clark moves closer to the bed, smiling at her light manner, Lois heaves herself to a sitting position. She tucks a stray lock behind her ear and explains in an irritated fashion, "The helicopter –- I was falling." An eye roll and headshake, "You caught me."

Clark sits on the edge of the bed and takes her hand, "Lois, honey – I think you're a little mixed up."

Lois frowns, and looks at their joined hands. She slides her hand out from under his, and smoothes her covers over her lap, "No, I remember – you said I've got you, Miss."

Clark's breath hitches with apprehension.

_This __is familiar…_

Lois's pretty forehead crinkles, and she looks at Superman with a singular lack of familiarity, "Wait a minute –- who got you?"

TBC

Please don't forget to review!


	16. Forgotten

**Just a short update, since I know it was far too long since the last one.**

**The usual disclaimer, and Kal apologizes for the slow updates, but the AI mistakenly blew up the fax machine, thinking it was alien technology (which it is, I guess...)**

16. Forgotten

Lois opens her eyes to glowing pastel walls – that, most definitely, are not in her apartment. She wrinkles her nose at the antiseptic imbedded in the sheets, and looks around without moving her head. Clark recognizes the careful assessment as her 'hostage/hiding-out' mode. Trembling, he whispers to her, "Lois – do you know where you are?"

The early sun glints through the large window, slanting across Clark's hair and reflecting in his eyes. She notices his skin's reaction to the rays -- a subtle pulsation of colour across his flesh, radiant in the sunshine. The sight of him warms and comforts her -- for reasons she can't put her finger on. She shrugs it off, as a coat placed across her shoulders by an unwanted suitor.

At her deprecating eye roll, Clark lets out a breath of relief. She scoffs, "Duh… a hospital – but why are you here, Clark? Hey, that was one wild dream…" Looking him up and down, Lois crinkles her brows in a knot. "But…, you're in a costume – like that Cirque de Soleil show – Lucy and I went to last week.

_That was over five years ago…_ "Uh, no; Lois, tell me about your dream."

Ignoring Clark's request, Lois starts to investigate her state in the bed. She checks out the saline drip, leading into the plastic IV tube in the back of her hand. Running her palms along both arms to her shoulders, and then patting her chest, she assures herself that nothing is broken.

"I can feel my toes," Lois lifts the edge of the sheet and peeks underneath. She tugs at it, so, without changing his seated position, Clark levitates a few inches above the blanket to release the tension. Lois holds the coverlet over her head and talks to her toes. "Hello feet – there you are. Nothing wrong here, I wonder why…" Lois lowers the sheets and freezes mid-sentence when she notices her visitor in tights floating above the blanket. She reaches forward and waves her hand through the gap beneath Clark, while he watches her with a mix of amusement and concern.

"I'm still dreaming…"

A small smile in place, Clark vainly searches her face for recognition, "No… you're not. But, I'm starting to think this is a nightmare."

Lois frowns and pats his arm. "No, no… I'm fine – you're a real boy scout, y'know?

Clark laughs at the familiar nickname, but his relief is cut short when Lois's pupils contract, and her heart rate spikes. "Wait… who are you?"

Clark holds his breath, and as her heart rate slows, Lois seems to come back to herself. Leaning back into the pillows, she points at the impossible gap. "So – how do you do it? Is it a magic trick -- like David Blain or… that demonic guy – Chriss Angel?"

Clark lowers to the bed, puts his hands on his knees, and stands up -- taking a deep breath, and letting it out slowly before he answers her. "Um, Lois it's not magic – it's me. I… I'm not … human."

Lois sniffs, and smirks at him, sitting upright, pushing back against the pillow as if to appear as foreboding as her tiny frame can allow, "Ri…ght. Well, nice meeting you… I… think I should get some rest now." Her hand feels around for the call button, and, crushed, Clark realizes that the love of his life thinks he's a few kryptonite meteors short of a planet. He backs toward the window and attempts a reassuring wave before he leaves.

Still looking at him like he doesn't know he's wearing his underwear on the outside, she can't resist the last word… "Hey -- can I have an exclusive… before you leave in your little rocket ship for whatever planet you hail from?"

At that moment, a pretty, dark-haired nurse flings opens the door. Flustered, she ignores Lois in her urgency to speak to the Man of Steel, "Superman –- on the TV – th…they're looking for you." She turns on the small set mounted above Lois's bed, and a view of the courthouse -- and a frantic Cat Grant -- fill the screen. Lois cringes at Cat's strident tone, "…Everyone's asking – is he gone? Has he left us again? We're reminded of the last time Superman missed his court date, and Lex Luthor was acquitted… with both Lex Luthor and Katherine Kowalski absent, the prosecution…"

Superman's face pales, and he mutters, "Great Krypton – how could I forget?" Furious in his urgency -- conflicted -- but reminded of his responsibility, he turns his tortured gaze to Lois. "I'm sorry Lois -– I have to go." His words are left hanging in the air -– his egress so sudden, almost a vacuum remains -- and Lois's breath is taken with his departure. She waggles her arm in the air at the open window, and gibbers to the nurse, "D…did you see that?"

The nurse shrugs, "he's Superman, honey, what did you expect?"

Half to herself, half to anyone else who may hear, Lois rants, and paws at her sheets. Her IV line, and her lack of strength, combined with a considerable wave of vertigo, stops her -- and her head falls back to the pillow. "I didn't expect… him… I don't know what I expected. Nurse, where are my clothes? I feel fine…. I want this story."

Pressing a button to deliver a dose of calming sedative, the nurse pats Lois's hand, and smoothes her hair from her face, "Of course you do – but, let's wait till Dr. Schwartz has a chance to check you out."

Enroute to the Arctic, Clark's brain spins. He hears Lois fall into a fitful slumber, and forces himself to attend to the matter at hand. _Father warned me not to get attached. I guess he had a point._

_How did I forget about Katharine? _

Clark pulls his cell phone out of the hidden pocket of his cape, and turns it on. "Hello… Perry, Clark here."

Clark hears the phone bang to the desk and then the sound of it being fumbled into place at Perry's mouth,

"Clark – where have you been? It's all over the news, and your damn cell wasn't on again, and I couldn't ask anyone --"

"--Perry, this isn't a secure line."

"Oh, right. So… where are you anyway? C-caught in traffic?"

"No, um… Lois, had a… mishap, She's at Metropolis General, and, as you know, I need to be somewhere else. Can you get over there? Look, Perry, her memory… don't mention Jason to her – God, she doesn't even remember me. I have to go…"

"On it, Clark – I'll be with her in twenty minutes. Great Caesar's Ghost, son, you two don't do anything by halves, do you? Who's watching Jason?"

"My mom."

"Your… mother? You really have a – uh, I ,mean… um Clark? Hello? Hello?" Hanging up the phone and grabbing his overcoat, Perry bellows to Jimmy to grab his camera and call them a cab. As he jabs his finger at the elevator down button, he mutters to himself with a grin, "Huh – Superman has a cell phone."

Clark looks askance at the tiny piece of earth technology lying in his palm. _I have to start turning on this thing when I'm in the suit – it really is handy…_

…_just a minor adjustment. _

While still in flight, Clark holds his Nokia at arm's length, and focuses a pinpoint beam of heat vision at a select spot. He wrinkles his nose at the scent of burning plastic.

_There… no more GPS._

**TBC**

**Please review -- so I know you are still with me...**


	17. Starting Over

Here's another segment, of my not-so-often-updated tome, for your perusal and pleasure (I hope.) You may be encouraged to know, that I intend to tie up all the scattered threads of this tale, nevertheless, my Muse in Red and Blue has the last say. So far, he has surprised me with each installment, and I honestly don't know where it is going.

Let's just hope it ends well. Being an optimist, I expect our hero(es) will prevail.

However, not quite yet...

Disclaimer: Superman and his fellow characters are the property of Warner Bros. Studios and DC Comics and created by Joe Shuster and Jerry Siegel.

17 Starting Over

"Katherine?" Clark's voice echoes in the crystalline chamber, the name loud in the empty and deceptively warm space.

After a moment of indecision, Kal-El's remarkable vision scans the Fortress, zeroes in on the status display, and forces him to accept what all his other senses have been telling him for the past sixteen minutes.

The only biosigns playing out on the gel-screen are his own.

Now, he realizes his denial of the truth -- approaching his Fortress, not detecting her heartbeat -- he'd hoped the AI's new security reinforcements included a biosign mask.

_Nope._

Rushing in to operate the crystal console, Clark passes a hand over it, waking the AI from its icy slumber.

_Katherine, where did you go?_

"Kal-El, do you require assistance?"

"Yes, AI, where is Katherine Kowalski?"

"She is not here, Kal-El."

Clark's irritation with the AI's pragmatic personality bursts out in his tight-lipped, clipped response, "I gathered that. How -- where, did she go?"

"I do not have that information, Kal-El."

"Okay… when did she leave?"

"5.32 hours ago."

Pacing, Kal-el's frustration with the situation tempts him to fry the console, "Why didn't you stop her?"

"You did not instruct me to keep her contained, Kal-El."

_I __enabled all the protocols to keep intruders out, but I neglected to lock the door behind me. Idiot. _

"AI, play back from… 2 hours before Katherine Kowalski left."

The holographic image of the petite brunette appears in the very spot where Clark last saw her. He walks toward the image, until he stands only half a meter distant_. She seems so real. _He watches, as she sits listening to a familiar voice, her expression fearful and confused.

Outside the fortress, Lex Luthor hammers her with his message through a portable loudspeaker.

"_**Superman has a girlfriend; he'll never want you. Right now, he sits with the 'love of his life' in her hospital room – he has forgotten about you, Katherine. **_

_**I**__** have **__**not**__** – I'm here. I love you; I know you would never betray me-"**_

Unable to stand the smug tone of his arch-enemy's voice, while on the prowl for another victim, Clark interrupts the recording. "AI, Play back from… five minutes before Katherine Kowalski left."

Krypton's last son watches, his fury rising, as Lex Luthor's voice booms through the Fortress, begging Katherine to reconsider – to take him back. As Lex professes his undying love for her, Clark blanches, and observes, horrified, as tears spring from Kitty's eyes -- the madman's ploy succeeding.

A tiny yelp elicits a start -- and a renewed freshet of tears -- from the forlorn woman, sealing her fate. She wraps her coat around her thin frame and walks toward the opening, where, just beyond the shield perimeter, Lex stands waiting. One arm cuddling a Pomeranian pup, and the other arm outstretched -- a carefully schooled look of adoration gracing his craggy features. Now, openly sobbing, Kitty walks through the high-arched crystalline entrance, and into his arms.

Kal-El watches, in defeat, as they climb into a helicopter and it takes off. He stares at it until it is a dot in the southeastern sky, his brilliant mind extrapolating its trajectory -- while knowing, deep in his gut, that Luthor will turn the 'copter around, as soon as he is out of range of the Fortress sensors.

Nodding, heart leaden, Clark steps back from the console -- his arms flaccid. Unconsciously, he drags his fingers through his hair, and lifts his head to the sky – bright blue through the transparent roof of the fortress. Hope drops with his hands, and he lets out a great roar of disappointment and rage -- making the crystal citadel ring with jarring harmonics. As the reverberations subside, Kal-El is left panting; his anger consuming him, his self-control dissolving, he shoots straight up and through the roof, shattering the pellucid canopy.

As Kal-El accelerates away, in the direction taken by Luthor's helicopter, the AI busies itself with ceiling repairs, humming a tuneless tune to itself while regenerating the crystalline structures.

------------------------------------------------------

In the Family Palliative Care Room at Metropolis General, Dr. Schwartz consoles Lois's friends, while advising them further about her condition. "Go ahead, Perry; she needs to know," the older man encourages.

Perry wrinkles his nose; hospitals have always made him nervous. The atmosphere of urine and antiseptic, the shiny waxed floors that scoop up to the wall as if to contain some imagined flood, the inevitable grime-encrusted corners in the bathrooms, all conspire to make him dizzy and nauseous. Yet, despite himself, the doctor's demeanour - patient and firm - cajoles Perry to relax. He allows himself to lean into the care-worn plastic chair-back, and the waiting room relic creaks in protest. "So… you're sure about this, Doctor?"

Dr. Schwartz leans forward and raps the melamine table with his gnarled knuckles. "There's no point in keeping the truth from her; the only way she will remember, is if she is confronted with familiar events, objects… people." A holy medicine man in his chapel, he punctuates his final words with a beneficent sweep of his hand towards his captive audience. A convert, Jimmy's eyes glisten with unshed emotion, but Perry is a tougher sell.

His teeth champing down on a non-existent cigar, he fairly spits his words at the doctor. "Well, I can't very well bring little Jason in – he'd be crushed if his Mommy didn't recognize him."

Dr. Schwartz tries on another compassionate expression, and decides to say nothing. Perry locks eyes with him, and the doctor holds his gaze, knowing this is just what Perry needs right now.

Jimmy, with more than his usual collection of nervous tics and starts, attempts to earn his full credit in De-escalating Situations 101, as he observes Perry's fury sizzle like bacon fat in an iron pan, ready to spatter and burn anyone standing too close. He searches for the right moment to suggest his own idea. "--I can bring in pictures, I have lots… of little Jason, Lois and Clark, and Richard…" The name is out before he can bite it back, and he knows that he's failed the final exam - Richard is still Perry's favourite nephew. "Oh, sorry, Chief."

A slow, cheerless smile crawls across Perry's face, and Jimmy realizes he has permission to breathe again. A good thing, too, since he was feeling gosh-darned dizzy.

"It's all right, Jimmy –- I have gotten used to the fact that my nephew and Lois are old news, pardon the pun, and don't call me Chief!"

"Yes, sure Ch-- uh, Mr. white, sir…"

Perry turns to the doctor, takes a deep breath, and decides an olive branch may be better than a baseball bat. "--I could bring in copies of her articles--"

"That's the spirit, Perry," the relieved physician replies. "Let's go see her now, shall we? I'm sure you will find things are never as bad as they seem."

Entering Lois's room, the first thing Jimmy notices is how young she looks. Then he realizes her little frown lines between her eyes are gone -

– gone with the memory that HE ever left.

TBC

Please remember to review!


	18. Friendship

I'm back -- with another chapter of what looks like an epic with no end.

Actually, Kal told me the end -- at least, his future self did (don't ask). But there's still a few chapters to go.

Thanks for hanging in!

Disclaimer :Superman is only mine in my heart, so I must relinquish all claims (in this dimension) to Siegel and Shuster, and DC comics.

18 Friendship

Entering Lois's hospital room alongside Jimmy, The floor nurse automatically intones, "Miss Lane – you have visitors."

Her autopilot manner disappears, faced with the spectacle of Lois clanking her way across the polished floor to her boss. "Miss Lane, what are you doing out of bed? Your I.V. – oh, we're going to have to put it back in, AGAIN. Doctor, please, could you speak to her. She won't listen to me."

Hospital equipment scatters in Lois's wake, the ripped-out I.V. line impotently dribbling saline on her abandoned bedclothes. Flashing an IFIWEREKRYPTONIAN,YOU'DBEAPUDDLEOFMAGMA glance at the over-worked nurse, Lois accosts her editor, grabbing his lapels. "Perry, I need to get back to work. I have to finish that piece about the President. I missed meeting him in Air Force One, but at least, I can --"

Perry grasps Lois' wrist, gently encouraging her back to the bed -- where the beleaguered nurse waits to reinsert her I.V. Lois throws another nasty glare at her, but, instead of retreating, the nurse stares it right back.

Lois grins in defeat, wilting to her pillow with a sigh.

Perry approaches, to perch on the edge of the bed, and pats her hand. His voice trembles. "Lois, you finished that article -- a long time ago."

Her brow knits, and she starts to speak when a breeze from the window rattles the aluminium blinds.

"Cla, uh, Superman. Where did you come from?" Perry says needlessly.

A deep rumble presages a chuckle -- that ends in crinkles at the corners of his eyes, "Krypton, originally. Why do you ask?"

Superman's flippant answer unnerves Perry, and he moves toward the Man of Steel. For the first time, he sees Clark in Superman's circus strongman suit, and senses a young man treading water, like a duck –- cool above, where everyone can see, but madly paddling below -- and barely staying afloat. Clark speaks first, before his editor gets a chance to say something compromising.

"Mr. White, can we go out… uh, in the hall – for a moment?"

The nurse, stunned by Superman's appearance, trips over her feet to hold open the door. Once out in the hall, Superman prepares to talk to Perry, but senses eyes on his back. He turns, and the nurse, staring and frozen in place, white-knuckles the doorknob. Clark, accustomed to the occasional star-struck reaction, smiles his brightest, notes her name on her badge, and politely asks 'Nurse Sally' to close the door. When she hears her name, she snaps out of her fugue and, blushing, pulls the door shut.

The visage of Superman disappears, and Clark comes crashing to Earth in a panic. "Seriously, Perry… how's Lois? Does she know you? She barely knows ME… she even LOOKS different. And... I lost Kitty. Lois has forgotten me, and… Jason. Things can't get worse…"

Dumbstruck, the senior editor of the greatest Metropolitan newspaper in the world blinks. He opens his mouth a couple of times, but nothing comes out.

Clark moves into Perry's personal space, "…and, you've got to stop looking at me as if I'm growing antennae. Otherwise, things will not go well back at the office."

Perry sputters, and stage-whispers back, "Translating Kryptonian verbal diarrhoea is not one of my fortes, Clark. Kitty? You have a cat?"

Mid-way through the exasperated look -- and a mental preamble to the explanation of Katherine Kowalski's nick-name -- Clark's face reflects a father's worst fear. _Jason may well have lost his mother… if she never regains her memory… _"Oh, my God; what will I do about Jason? Perry, how can I tell my son that his mother has forgotten him?"

"Great Caesar's ghost, man, I've never heard you say so much, and phrase it so poorly, in all the years I've known you. Are you going to be all right? I mean, what do you do when you need to… talk?"

"Talk?"

"Talk… yes, TALK. I'm sensing a need to talk here. Wait, did you say your SON? Clark, we REALLY need to talk."

_Oops._

Always the one to choose the wrong moment, and curious about what Superman had to say to his boss, Jimmy peeks his head out into the hallway -- and comes eyeball to cerulean eyeball with Clark. "Hey, how's it going, Supes?" Turning to his boss, Jimmy squirms, "Lois is getting antsy, Chief, uh… I mean, Mr. White, um."

Clark sets his jaw and looks at his two old friends – both so concerned, and loyal -- both willing to go out of their way for their pals.

_I have to figure this out… on my own.__ Perry wants to help, but Jason's needs are paramount. _

_Lois will have to wait._

_Supes? When did Jimmy become so comfortable with Superman? He's so close to Clark -– I wouldn't be surprised --_

Interrupting his own thoughts, Clark graces them with a sunshine-warm smile and adopts a more formal manner to take his leave. He focuses a pointed look at Perry, silently enlisting his help in making both Clark and Superman's excuses to Jimmy and Lois. "I apologize, but I have work to attend to; Jimmy; Mr. White."

His words still echo in the deserted hallway, as his sonic boom blends with the city's soundscape.

Jimmy scratches his head, and Perry can see the junior reporter gears turning, "Geez, he was in a hurry. Funny, I've never seen Superman in a rush to leave Lois when she was in trouble."

Clapping Jimmy on the back, and dragging him into the room -- partly to keep Lois company, but mostly to distract him -- Perry whispers, "He's a man, Jimmy. You'll understand when you're older."

--

After beating his own best time to Smallville -- even with an in-flight change -- Clark touches down by his childhood home, a small puff of dust scuffing his running shoes.

"Hey, Ma; Jason."

Superman's best friend bounces up to Clark, who pets him absent-mindedly. "Hey, Shelby." He frowns, whips his head around and x-rays the barns, the silo and finally, the house. "Ma?"

Martha stands motionless at the kitchen counter, and Jason is nowhere.

Blurring through the screen door, Clark appears beside his mom at the sink, "Mom, where's Jason?"

Martha examines her pastry-coated hands. "Oh, there you are, young man. Have you seen your father? He's been hidin' out all day, and I'm makin' his favourite pie for supper – apple."

Clark shivers, the conscious result of a distressing idea tracing a dark path across his subconscious mind.

"Mom… where's Jason?"

Raising rheumy blue eyes to her son, Martha frowns -- knitting together the fine lines and wrinkles that are the sum of her life experience. "Jason?"

Clark gasps, and resists taking his mother by the shoulders and shaking her. "Ma. My son."

Eyes crinkling, Martha gently swats Clark's arm, leaving a pie-paste print on his sleeve.

"Your son? How silly, Clark –- you're still in high school. Did you get into that red kryptonite again?"

_Oh, my God, no._

TBC

Please remember to review, Thanks :)


	19. Only Human

UNNECESSARY A/N How did I update so fast, you ask? I split a massive writing spurt into 2 chapters -- to allow for the cliff-hanger. I will try to update more frequently, now that I have a more comfortable writing space.

I recommend a getaway writing space to anyone who wants to work seriously on the craft. This is much better than writing on my laptop -- on the sofa -- with chatting and TV in the vicinity to distract from the Muse's musings.

Disclaimer :Superman is REAL, and is all mine, BWAHAHAHAH, but I'm out of touch with reality most of the time, so I may be wrong.

In case I am wrong, Superman may, very well, NOT BE REAL, and that NOT REAL PERSON may be the property of DC comics -- and sundry large corporations -- the ways of our modern world being what they are.

Anyway, I'm sure they don't know he spends his spare time hanging out with me at home.

**NOTE: Despite the flippancy of my disclaimer, this story is serious in tone.**

**19 Only Human**

The wind whistles over the cornfields, encouraging tiny dust-devil premonitions of thunder and tornados to mither the corners of the barn and the laneway. The late-afternoon warblers begin their dinner concert, and the homespun curtains at the Kent kitchen window flap, as if a winged one lives in its gingham folds.

The birdsong, usually relaxing to Clark, now simply irritates him with its ineffectual chatter. He looks down at his sweet, silver-haired mother, and her dove-like frailty breaks his heart. He searches her eyes, but something is missing, "Ma, was Lex Luthor here? Did he take Jason?"

Martha's eyes flash, and Clark's heart skips a beat, "That awful man. Land sakes, son… you know he's in jail. I was just saying to Jonathon this morning -- first time out, and Clark nearly gets himself killed, just to put some animal in a cage. Stay home a spell longer -- Lana was askin' after you."

This time, Clark wraps his large hands around Martha's tan, work-solid arms, and his expression sobers her. He watches her eyes clear, and her gaze sharpen. The transformation is startling, and he dreads its meaning. "Clark? Are you taking Jason back already? We were just making pie -- can you stay and have some?"

_Oh, Ma__, where were you? _"Mom – I promise I'll be right back -– don't move, ok?" _I have to look for Jason; please, don't leave us again. _

Clark speeds away, and is thirty feet in the air before the screen door slams shut. Clark hovers, slowing his own heart to focus and find the soft thrum of his son's heartbeat. He follows it to Ben Hubbard's barn -- kitty-corner to their far north field. Scanning for anyone who may spot the large farmhand hovering above the hay, Clark satisfies himself that, as usual, the cows will keep his secret. He maneuvers near the barn, landing behind the open door. Before the dust settles, Jason wraps himself around his father's legs – holding on, as if he fears the ground may swallow him whole any moment. _Humph, I guess his hearing is improving… or did he SEE me --_

"Daddadimsogladyoureheregramawas… acting… funny, so I --"

"Slow down, son," _I know super speed panic when I hear it. _"It's okay, Jason. Where's Mr. Hubbard?"

Clark knows exactly where Ben is, as he hears the scuff of his old neighbour's work boots and a worrying wheeze to his breath. Even in his anxious state, Jason knows the question is for Ben's benefit, to keep up the pretence of ordinary old Clark. He muses for a second at how automatic his subterfuge is – and how sad that his little boy had to learn this lesson so early.

On cue, the old farmer rushes out of the barn to meet him. "Clark, Clark -- thank the heavens you're here. Jason had a bit of a scare." He stops, wheezing, and bends over -- hands on knees, to catch his breath.

"Slow down Ben, you're all flushed…" A chilling dèja-vu memory freezes Clark's hands, as he helps his elderly friend to find a seat on a nearby milk bench. The older man's unhealthy demeanour reminds him of his dad at the end, and he blurts, "B-Ben, we need to get you to a hospital now."

"Calm down, son, its just a little asthma -- I'm a bit sensitive in haying season." As he says this, he digs his work worn hands deep into an inner pocket of his ancient jeans jacket. Pulling out a new-looking inhaler, he winks at Jason in conspiratorial rapport. "Two puffs, and I'm good for the rest of the day."

Clark slumps, mental exhaustion from the past two days consuming him, and he sweeps Jason up in his powerful arms and soothes him -- breathing in his familial scent.

_Like __my__ mom – Lara --_

_-- Mom…_

Cradling his baby boy, Clark crouches down, faces his old friend, and places a hand on his shoulder, locking their gaze. "Ben, what's wrong with my mother?"

"Son, I've been worried about Martha for some time -- I wish you'd seen fit to come to me first."

Jason snuggles into Clark's neck, and yawns. Ben smiles, and says, "Let's bring him into the house, and you both can get something to settle your nerves. Someone looks like he might even sleep."

"Probably still jet lag, considering the difference between eastern and central time – I got him here pretty fast."

Walking into the house, Clark realizes that what he just divulged may be damning, if Ben has any suspicions. He swats away the idea, but it flits back to nag him like a deer fly looking for lunch –- tiny, but insistent -- and bent on drawing blood.

Settling Jason down on a worn plaid sofa, Clark follows Mr. Hubbard into his kitchen, and a rush of childhood memories wash over him. Jonathan and Ben laughing over steaming mugs of coffee -- his mother swatting them both with a dishtowel while she helps Mrs. Hubbard dry the apple pie plates -- his own mouth tingling from the lemon and cinnamon flavour of the prize-winning pie.

"Your wife made the second-best pie in Lowell County, Ben."

Chuckling, the older farmer reaches into the fridge, and hefts a frosty pitcher of lemonade to the counter. Without looking, Clark pulls three glasses out of the cupboard, and Ben fills each one -- plopping an ice cube in each from an ancient metal tray. "That she did, Clark… that she did."

The two men sip at the lemonade, each in their own thoughts. Jason's sleeping heart rate and soft breathing tickles Clark's senses, and he watches his son's untouched lemonade collect condensation, following the drips down to puddle around the glass on the granite counter.

…_seawater streaming over my body, while the kryptonite-poisoned crystal grows toward -- then into -- my hands…_

Ben's gravely voice rumbles, "Earth to Clark."

Clark blinks, and takes a swig of the icy drink, "Sorry, Ben – I was miles away…"

"I'm used to it, Clark –- no need to apologise. Well, about your mother… you know how she loves her Scrabble… I could never beat her -- tarnation, that woman has a vocabulary. I first noticed a difference… when she began to lose."

Afraid of where this is going, Clark knits his eyebrows together and smiles –- an altogether disconcerting combination. "She… likes to read. I'm sure her love of the written word had a hand in my becoming a journalist."

"Anyway, Ben whispered, she, she…"

Clark steels himself for what he fears Ben may have to say. "Go on, Ben -- I need to know."

"Son… you know I love your mother -- forgive me, I'm in love with her -- I know her -- she never loses that damn game. Sometimes she lets me win -- I've always known that…."

Clark senses a foreboding cloud passing across his Smallville sun, and Ben nods. "My older brother has Alzheimer's, Clark -- I'm afraid…"

Ben's kindly eyes rest on Clark, as his head bows to his chest. "Ben… I… so much has happened… and so fast."

"I know, son --"

Jumping up with intensity, that he barely contains within his white-knuckled fists, Clark hisses, "—No, you don't -- you couldn't – know." Jason whimpers in sleep, and Clark throws his head back, willing his emotions to still, and his blood pressure to lower.

Ben rises, and clasps Clark by the shoulder, his soul burning into the young Kryptonian's awareness, through the human disguise, to the man-alien beneath.

"Clark -- you were gone a long time -- five years -- it was very hard on your mother."

Like a punch to his still-tender scar, Ben's words bring back Clark's regret for lost time with all his loved ones, and he removes his glasses to rub his eyes. The spectacles, the weight of the Secret, sit in hands capable of lifting islands to the heavens, and yet, are almost too heavy for him to bear.

Lifting his naked face to his old friend, Clark says, "Ben, you've known me all my life."

"I have, and proud of it, son – you've turned into a fine man."

Fiddling with his glasses, unwilling to hang the useless prop back on his face, Clark folds them up and stashes them in his breast pocket. "I… don't feel much like that… I feel… I could use your help." _I wish my dad were here._

Guiding Clark to sit at the table, Ben studies his face with understanding, "Your mother was very worried about you when you returned, and, right off, ended up in hospital."

Clark bows his head to the table, and mumbles past clasped hands, "Not my fault, Ben -– Lex Luthor hurt a lot of people that day, not only me."

Inexplicably, Ben does not respond to Clark's excuse,

"Y'know, I was with Martha that day -- too bad we couldn't get in to see you."

"A lot of people couldn't, what with the fuss over Superman. I was pretty much out of it anyway."

"I gathered that – I understand you fell – quite a distance."

Clark whips his head up to face his mother's best friend, his mind scrabbling for the lie, but says nothing.

"Yet, here you stand – good Midwestern stock."

Clark blinks, and the words come, unbidden, "A-actually, my birth parents weren't from around here."

"I know, Clark. I've known… for some time now."

TBC

Thanks for reading.

I wouldn't mind a review -- or two :)


	20. Father

**20**** Father **

Blanketed by the waning light of sunset, Superman's son lies, sleeping, his tiny form sprawled over the plaid cushions on Ben Hubbard's dog-loved sitting-room couch. The chewed wooden arms and misshapen stuffing play a poignant counterpoint to the boy's apple-fresh innocence.

His father -- Saviour of Metropolis -- sits in the dark kitchen and listens to the sounds of his son sleeping -- soft baby snores, rhythmic as his own heartbeat. He allows gravity to take him; giving himself up to the pull of the earth as he rarely does -- for when he does, he, at length, succumbs to Morpheus's pull as well. His eyelids fluttering with exhaustion from the day, he faces Ben -- a man he knows to be patient as a stone statue –- _and doing a pretty good impression of one right now, too_.

Clark is pensive as he tries to come to terms with this, yet another, major change in his life.

Ben reaches his hand across the scarred wooden surface of the aged table and grips Kal's arm, giving him a little shake of reassurance. "Clark, you don't have to worry -– about your secret, I mean. Martha was so lonely when you left, and she needed someone to talk to. When she saw how you reacted to the idea that we were dating, she figured we should wait… to tell you… that… I knew. Don't blame her."

Slowly shaking his head, and with a soft smile, the younger man pats the furrowed hand, then frowns the smile away –- and like a loyal workhorse, takes on the duty-burden without a thought. "No, Ben, this is all my doing. NONE if this would have happened if I hadn't gone on that useless journey -- to a place that no longer exists. I messed my life up, I lost five years with Lois -- and Ma –- and… I've decided."

"I'm… going to turn it back."

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Kitty nuzzles the sweet fur-ball squirming in her arms, and tries to forget the last moments of her former dog's life. Tries to forget Lex's eyes… then. His eyes, now, sliding over her features like cold liquid mercury, ooze a kind of adoration and love – akin to the love she's always craved -- craved from a certain red-caped wonder, not a bald maniacal killer.

"Kitty –- why so down? You're going to adore the apartment. All gleaming gold, and thick, red velvet. You wanted a heart-shaped bed -– I remembered -– I got it in queen-size just for you. And, the room –- it's got a door you can close."

At the mention of a lockable door, her eyes snap to attention. "Lex, you got me… my own room?" her voice rises in pitch to near-inaudible frequency, and the dog winces. Lex did his homework, remembering that Kitty, as a child, was crammed into a trailer with five siblings –- three to a room. The dream -- of a personal, inviolate space -- still the carrot on her own particular stick. A fluid smile curves Lex's lush lips and he springs the trap, "The Suit, Katherine – I got you a Suit."

Kitty's eyes well up, and the delicate moisture dampens her flushed cheeks. For a few seconds, her view of Lex is softened and indistinct, and, in that moment, she loves him, and he is handsome –- a Superman, of sorts.

Lex is quick to take advantage of the moment, and leans in for a kiss, his lips bruising hers. Her vision clears, she suppresses the shudder, and closes her eyes to reality, thinking of Him. When she opens them, Lex is so close -- his stone-grey eyes in soft-focus -- she can almost believe… her eyes slide shut, and she allows him to deepen the kiss, while she envisions azure behind her own lowered lids.

After his moment of intimacy with her body, Lex reaches around Katherine's shoulders and clinches her to him. The grip is not without a modicum of pain, and Kitty bears it, burying her nose in the puppy's neck. Luthor sighs with contentment, watching the ocean slide by below the copter. In the near distance, Gertrude II -- with her ample helipad -- glows golden-green and ivory in the ocean sunset.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Forsaking the promise of rest, Clark reaches up and chafes the weariness from his eyes, willing his energy to return and bring wakefulness with it.

Then, with a blinding flourish of colour, Superman stands in place where Clark sat, moments before, and Ben gasps. Then he speaks, and, his voice like far-off thunder -- subtle, yet inevitable -- surprises the old man. "Old friend, you think you know my secret."

"In your absence, Martha stuffed me with apple pie, and it so reminded her of you, she couldn't help but talk about you –- at length. She missed you, son."

At the mention of his mother's name, Clark's lip trembles, and Ben guesses, by his expression, that he is using his extraordinary hearing to reach out to her -- and that it's her even, slow breathing that releases his tension, assuring him that she will rest until the rooster wakes her -- to tend to hen's and cow's daybreak requirements.

"She's asleep. Are you scared of heights?"

"No, Clar—-uh, Superman." and Clark makes a face.

"-- Call me Clark, please, that other name sounds… odd, coming from you. Old friend, you say your heart is good –- can I take you up?"

Ben tips back his hat and shoves his fists into his pockets, rooting himself to the earth, as if in defiance of Clark's request. "The apple pie sessions satisfied my curiosity about you –- and then some. I don't need proof –- I have faith, you know."

The old farmer's face reflects Clark's determination, even though his secret heart is terrified of the implications of Clark's offer.

_To fly with a god – 'N__o, not a god, Ben Hubbard – just our Clark,' Martha would admonish._

_Still, he i__s impressive in his uniform_…

The Suit's material was much more substantial and masculine than he'd imagined. His eyes dart from Kal's thick-soled boots up to meet his gaze, undiminished by cheap prescription glasses, and Ben is surprised to see the same boy he watched grow up next door –- the boy he introduced to horseback riding and scrabble. Standing before him, waiting for his answer -- as calm if they had all day -- is the boy who was, once, scared of heights – and whose fear inexplicably vanished one summer.

Ben gasps.

_The summer he learned to fly__._

"Ben?"

_Still waiting – as if my opinion mattered._

"No, Clark, no fears -- many summers spent loafing atop the silos. What about Jason?"

"I'll keep an eye. Ready?"

A mute nod from Ben, and he follows Clark out the back door. Superman lifts him easily at the waist; Ben marvels at the fact that gravity seems to have released him -– he expected to feel clamped in a flying harness, sores blooming at the pressure points of the Kryptonian's steely grip. "Clark, why is it…?"

"So smooth? Superman airlines at your service. No peanuts, I'm afraid -- due to allergies -- but there's a complementary blanket if you get cold," Clark quips, pointing his nose at his cape.

Ben scowls, confused, "I mean – it's like I'm floating. Like in a lake – but without the swimming part. Uh, I mean, without the water." Flustered, the old man's ruddy cheeks darken, and Clark gives him a reassuring smile.

"Let me guess, Mom didn't mention my aura."

"Aura?" Ben gulps. Then a light bulb goes on, and he regains as much composure as a farmer in overalls floating ten stories above his cows can muster, "The invulnerability… whachamacallit? Your mother mentioned it's why your suit has to be so tight."

"Yep. If I wore overalls, like you, they'd be in shreds from the friction of supersonic flight. However, for short periods, I can will my aura to envelop us both while we fly; we must stay in physical contact for it to work."

"I bet you go through capes like I go through gum rubbers."

"Pretty much. One guy put my old cape up for auction on Ebay, and I persuaded him to donate half to charity. I figured, finders, keepers."

Digesting the information, Ben relaxes and looks to the ground for the first time -- the town laid out like the train set in the basement of his youth. The fields, multi-hued squares, like a crazy-quilt chessboard, the vehicles, and animals moving in slow motion across the seemingly smooth surface.

_Turn back?_

"Clark, at the house… what did you mean… you would turn it back?"

His smile abruptly gone like a firefly's glimmer, Clark sobers, and hesitates to speak.

"I'm assuming you brought me up here to tell me something, and my farmer's intuition is tingling mighty fierce right now. Answer me, son… what did you mean by 'turn it back?'"

"Well… actually, um, I don't turn anything back so much as… uh, GO back… in time…"

"Izzatso. Y'know, my boy… I think I need to be on solid ground for this one."


	21. Time

**Disclaimer:** Superman and his fellow characters are the property of Warner Bros. Studios and DC Comics, and created by Joe Shuster and Jerry Siegel.

The fact that **HOVERING ON THE BRINK was nominated for BEST ONE-LINER in the SUPERMAN MOVIEVERSE AWARDS over at LiveJournal** is beside the point. **Make sure you vote!**

**21**** – Time**

Nodding, Superman touches down, raising the faintest puff of dust -- compliant in the face of Ben's request to discuss this issue, sitting down.

Relinquishing Ben to earth's gravity like a dandelion head releasing a seed, effortless and silent -- yet irrevocable, Clark's head sags to consider his boots. With a tiny quirk of his cheek, he blurs into jeans and t-shirt, his glasses wobbling minutely as they settle on his nose.

As they walk into the house, Clark's heels scuff the wood floor and Ben babbles in wonder. "I thought… Martha told me… everything -- you were capable of. And, I've had some time to settle with it -– even the… you… being an alien and all. But, time travel? Why have I never heard --?"

Entering the kitchen, Clark glances at Jason, still sound asleep, and sits at the table. He raises sorrow-filled eyes to his old friend. "Lois w-was buried – in the earthquake. I – Lois, it was LOIS. I went back. I reacted."

Joining him at the table, Ben whispers, "Went back, where? How?"

"It has to do with the theory of relativity. The closer you come to the speed of light, the slower time passes. I flew really fast, Ben. I surpassed light speed – time went in reverse."

"Land sakes, time going slower? That's science fiction, isn't it?"

Relaxing a bit, with the need for explanation, Clark's inner geek momentarily rejoices, "A-actually, Ben, it's science fact, proven with atomic clocks carried on past space missions."

"Al-righty then, but… how did you not –- I don't know -- get lost –- flying so fast?"

"I, um, circled the earth –- high enough up, above the atmosphere, to avoid stirring up air currents, but low enough to keep visual range with, um… Lois. I think my… instincts and super-senses kept me in place -- despite the fact that the earth moved position through space… as… I went back… in time." Feeling the weight of Ben's gaze, Clark's voice fades to near a whisper. Uncomfortable, his hands fiddle with the old tabletop, finding fascination in the ancient juice and wine stains trapped in the oak grain that corroborate long ownership under the Hubbard family's roof.

Ben lets out a long sigh, "This is a bit over my head, son -- and, frankly, I..."

Launching himself from his chair with an intensity that startles his old friend, Clark hisses, "I know it's improbable – I could hardly believe it when I did it." Shaking, Clark looks over at Jason, the miracle that would not be, if not for a split-second, hasty decision. "-- I've never told anyone this – D-Dad was… gone…"

"Go on, son."

"Father was totally against it."

"Jonathan?"

"No, uh, my Kryptonian – my birth-father, Jor-el."

"Now, I'm afraid you've lost me."

Cold as Kryptonian crystal, Kal's voice rumbles, "As you would say, Ben, we have a lot of ground to plough. And, we won't get it done in one conversation. Anyway, I need to check in on Mom, and do some preparations before I go back."

Ben notices the younger man's eyes still rest on his son, and guesses his thoughts, "Don't worry, Clark. I'll watch over Jason. But, son – this TIME thing -- this 'turning back' People may die, who never died before --"

Resolute, Kal snaps, "-- Or may survive."

Ben's eyes narrow, "Clark, you could lose your son." Behind the glasses, a surprised sapphire glare sweeps down to meet Ben's weary eyes. Despite an odd weakness in his knee area, the older man stands to face the Kryptonian, acutely aware of Kal's potential to alter reality, and fearful of the possible repercussions, "Let me talk, son. Certainly, some may live that should have passed, but… you're speaking about the power of life and death, Clark."

Clark sags to his chair -- his words, and tone, mismatching his energy, as if he feels obligated to act, simply because he can. "If I have the power, why not use it? I've had time to think it out; I feel it's the right thing to do. I'm an honourable person --"

Without meeting Clark's eyes, Ben speaks, and his voice resonates in the dark kitchen. "--That's just it –- you're a person – you're not GOD."

Clark opens his mouth to speak, and, realizing he has nothing to say, closes it. He brings his hands together and raises them to his lips. Ben has a brief vision of Superman in prayer, and then realizes he is projecting -- layering his own ideals, and his own values, on a super-powered alien. He feels a moment of unfocused panic.

On the couch, Jason whimpers in his sleep; dreaming, his heart speeds up, and Clark listens to his son, -- his resolve dissipating, all his decisions dissolving like fog in morning light. "Ben, I was brought up here to believe God doesn't make mistakes -- there is a purpose to everything – including my ability to go back in time. If I can fix them -- all my mistakes -- what's wrong with that?"

"Son, the fact you did it, went back once, means the Almighty must've seen some good in it -- a purpose. Rest assured, Clark, he watches all of us – including you. Bein' able to lift a whole island and fly like a bird don't make you better than the rest of us – only different. I 'spect you've used up your share of golden tickets. Remember, just because you CAN do something, don't necessarily mean you SHOULD."

As if to put a cap on the discussion, Ben goes to the sink to rinse out his glass, and sets it, upside-down, to drain on the old wire rack. His reflection, in the weakening light of a typically spectacular Kansas sunset, looks tired and unutterably sad.

Clark heaves himself out of the chair, as if gravity mattered to him –- his burden having become far more than he could have imagined. "The sky's beautiful tonight."

Ben's eyes turn inward, and a singsong rhythm takes over his craggy tone as he utters an old weather rhyme,

"If the sun in red should set,

the next day surely will be wet;

if the sun should set in grey,

the next will be a rainy day."

"I guess, we can't win, huh?" Clark chuckles sadly.

"Nope – not in Kansas," Ben sighs. "We surely can't control everything, Clark – 'specially the weather, and for the most part, life. Life travels a one-way path, narrow as a hound's backbone – no return trips allowed."

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --

"Miss Kow-alski!!" Katherine knows that Lex's tone, irritable and rising in pitch, is NEVER good, but she steadfastly refuses to open the door for him.

_Hold on Kathy__, hold on – he can wait… and if you just… hold on…_

"Kitty, please. The Reich-Duke of the Autonomous State of Morestovania wants to meet you. I know his title is pretentious, and more than ridiculous, but he owns a number of illegal nuclear weapons that I want to acquire. We have to make a good impression on him. If he thinks we are fighting…"

Ripping open the small cardboard shipping carton, and losing the battle with the packing tape, Kitty growls to herself, "Lex, I have a headache." Louder, she purrs, "Just a minute, Sweetums – I'm looking for my earring."

Lex presses his lips to the ornate keyhole of her ivory and gold suite double doors and stage-whispers, "Katherine, I know the little prick is a misogynistic bastard, but he has all these cool toys, and I want to play with them. Besides, he thinks, ha, ha -- that I have, ha, control over you. Isn't that funny?"

"Come out, please?"

Rolling her eyes and glancing at the Ikea-like instruction sheet packed with the hardware resting on her bed, Kitty sighs, "I will, DEAR, but I'm having trouble with my hair – I won't be much longer. Show him your Kryptonite. That always impresses them."

The words, fresh off her tongue, fly back, in Lex's voice, to sting her -- and she winces, as if struck. "Lex, why don't you show him your kryptonite?"

"What's the point of having kryptonite, if I have no crystals to enhance it – huh?!"

As Lex fumes, Kitty rushes around her room, hiding the first of the delicate electronic components, which a few significant bribes -- and promises – will hopefully obtain for her. She may not be able to assemble a sub-sonic communications device on her own, so one of Lex's friends put a price to that friendship, and is now loyal to 'Miss Kitty' -- as he so affectionately calls her. She did regret the greasy feel of his hair gel, but some things are more important than good grooming.

Muttering, Lex's voice recedes with his footsteps, "Lex, why don't you show him your kryptonite? Females, can't live with 'em, can't shoot 'em."

Kitty lets the breath out that she was holding, knowing her days with Lex are numbered.

She'll have to move fast to prove herself worthy to Him.

**TBC **

**Don't forget to review and to vote in the Superman MovieVerse Awards at LiveJournal**


	22. A Change is as good as a Rest

**Disclaimer:** Superman and his fellow characters are the property of Warner Bros. Studios and DC Comics, and created by Joe Shuster and Jerry Siegel.

**A/N **

**I know I have a really unreliable update schedule (actually, I have none) but I refuse to post if it's not good enough. I hope this instalment surprises and entertains. Once again -- don't blame me for the events herein, I'm just relating what Clark whispers in my ear.**

Reality is ALWAYS stranger than fiction. This I know.

PS Due to some confusion with this chapter, I'd like to assure you all that our hero is NOT dreaming. However, I think you will agree that "turning back" time is not as simple a thing as Clark described to Ben in the last chapter. The time travel option will be settled -- for good.

--

**22 - A Change is as good as a Rest**

Ignoring Ben's words, ignoring his own nagging little voice of reason -- that sounds far too much like Jor-El, Clark speeds through the stratosphere and out into space to a specific altitude. There he stops -- 80 kilometres up, 37°North, 122°West -- where his faultless memory replays Lois's harrowing earthly demise.

Fighting for focus, Clark resumes his climb up to the thermosphere, where the unadulterated solar radiation acts on Clark like a powerful narcotic. He wonders if this sensation influenced him – if his choice to save Lois was made rashly and hence a cosmic screw-up.

Desperate for truth, his mind grasps at a memory of an ancient Hopi practice, _listening with open heart and unclad eye_. Intoning the ancient words -- loud in his mind, but soundless in the thin atmosphere of almost-space, Clark fights to reach a rational/spiritual balance.

Outside of time, the lack of air unimportant, and with no way to tell how long he floats, suspended, Clark slowly comes back to awareness -- awareness of the naked, blue marble beauty of his adopted planet lying below, and himself, Kal-El, bearing silent witness to it all.

Ben still gazes skyward, Jason still sleeps, Martha still dreams, Lois still rants about unfinished articles and bloody I.V.'s to no one in particular.

Thoughts of his life – moments of his time on earth -- ghost before his eyes. _Could I die a little to let time be right, relinquish some of my existence to Earth? _

_If I__ keep going_…

He finds himself flying now, faster and faster –accelerating at an exponential rate. Faster than he remembers, going farther back… before… his birth – before… her birth -- he flies. Before. His arms, before him, become insubstantial and opalescent to his near -unseeing eyes.

_Is this…? __Is this dea—_

"Wake up."

"Wakeup, Kal."

"Clark."

He opens his eyes, and a familiar form – her form, cushions his cheek. With a revelation that steals his strength, he slumps further onto her lap. Her impossible self sits -- eyes heart-breakingly clear, delicate hands -- with dear nail-nibbled fingers, stroking damp strands of strangely masculine, yet silken hair that possess his brow.

"Clark, are you…?"

Superman stumbles to his feet, ready to fly in fear of her words.

_I was… did I go back – is this__… back?_

"Clark."

"Clark's not here, Lois. It's only me."

"Clark… come here."

A thrill chases up his spine, a possibility unfolds its wings and caresses his cheek, and he turns.

She is looking at HIM. She is speaking to HIM.

He is not aware of speaking, but he hears her name in a voice that sounds like his. "Lois?"

"Come here, Superman -- I need to ask you something."

Crestfallen, Clark moves to the bed.

_She knows me, but she__ is still confused about Clark._

Tilting her head, Lois smirks. "You think too hard, y'know that? Let me do some of that severe brain-burning for a change."

Eyebrows quivering a question, Clark tries on a tiny smile, but his chin has other ideas and attempts to take over the territory normally inhabited by his bottom lip.

Lois owns him with her eyes, and forgives all his trespasses with her sad smile. "One, you need to take me home; the food here is… well, it's hospital food.

With a tinkly laugh, and a languorous eye blink, Lois drops the other one…

"Two, I think you need to change into something more comfortable…"

--

They watch each other as they soar together – rising arrow-straight above the hospital grounds. She peeks out around the swaddle of cape and shakes her head. "Why did you…?"

Searching her face for a difference, Clark finds none. Her expression is open and relaxed, almost waiting.

_Nothing has changed – __has it? She's flirting – she did that from the moment we met. But… before… what __was__ all that? A crazy dream I had -- while asleep in a hospital room? It felt so real._

_If this __were a plot, I'd demand a rewrite. _

Clark, lost in Lois's eyes, misses her question and frowns around a murmur, "Erm - uh?"

"Why did you return, Clark?"

_Calling me __Clark again, she is so confused. _"I… uh, told you there was nothing there."

Watching her face, he sees no resentment– no irritation --only the cloudless vista of her question. "Where?"

Hesitating in their motion upward… as if his mind can't grasp the wide open sky reflected in her face, he blurts. "K… Krypton… Krypton."

"You're not making any sense, Sweetie. It's a simple question."

Landing on her balcony, Clark falters, _Jason_?

_Jason's heartbeat. I can't hear it._

Gliding out of his arms with thoughtless ease, Lois stretches, then turns to him, and shakes her head at him as if he was a big puppy finished his business -- and in need of further instruction, "Well… are you coming in -- or do I have to call Martha and get you in trouble."

_Mom_ –

"Lois, what year is it?"

Stricken by his words, Lois runs to him and grabs his forearm as if he might float away from her, "Clark, I thought that whole thing with Doomsday was over."

Her face darkens with fear and she backs away from him, bumping a patio chair, its clanging sound deafening to his super-sensitive hearing -- still searching for signs of his son's existence.

Lois's voice turns shrill, "Are you… YOU? You passed out after the sonogram –- you never pass out."

Looking, as if for the first time, at her lovely face, Clark realizes he may not know this woman. Fear, like a chill shaft of Arctic hoarfrost, arrows through his heart. "Lois why were you in the hospital?"

Clinging to the ironwork chair like a shield, Lois's heart rate spikes, and Clark feels a deep pang of sorrow for her. Her voice drops to a pitiable whisper, "Now you really aren't making sense."

Clark softens his voice to match, and crouches to her level. "This is me, honey. Indulge me, please?"

"O-kay. Um, after the first try was… well, after our first try, you thought I needed closer care.

_First try…_

"You put me in hospital overnight just because of a little flutter. She's fine, honey, our baby's ok."

Focusing his hearing, Clark notices what he was ignoring – a foetal heartbeat. His own heart pounds with the implications, but before he can formulate an answer – before he can even begin to try to conceive the reality he may have inadvertently created, Lois's patio table turns into a Llama.

Beside the fact that the matching chairs decide to join the table, by sprouting four legs and finding grass to munch on the formally concrete patio, more importantly, Lois's edges begin to curl around her as if she were a drawing on a piece of paper crumpled in a giant hand -- with only Clark as witness.

The blue sky absorbs the Lois-image, and Kal-El finds himself flying again -- his head jerking to either side to get his bearings at the colossal speed of his trajectory.

Determined to end this before it gets any worse, Clark forces a stop, which is so sudden, the very air crackles with the friction, and he hears Jason below, calling for him. Rocketing to earth, he finds his son sobbing at the centre of a cornfield, pointing to the east. Clark's eyes follow Jason's finger to a huge conflagration on the horizon. Scooping up his baby, Superman speeds to the fire, his mother's home the epicentre, Jason sobbing "I'm sorry" in his ear, all the way.

No sound.

He is in darkness.

"Am I moving? Am I dead?"

"No -- on both counts, but the second choice may change if we are late today. Get up sleepyhead, or Perry will have both of ours on a silver platter – for breakfast."

A light turns on, and Lois continues, "You're moving into your new office! So, move it, move it." To Clark's' bemusement, Lois, in pink Supergirl PJ's, dances the silly tune into the walk-in closet, while Clark drags himself out of bed.

_Bed?_

_Okay__… we're married?_ Heading to the bathroom, Clark glances into the mirror over the sink --

-- and sees Richard White staring back, his own shock transmuted by the features of a stranger.

--

TBC

Please review, so I know you are still out there!


	23. Double L Trouble

**Disclaimer:** Superman and his fellow characters are the property of Warner Bros. Studios and DC Comics, and created by Joe Shuster and Jerry Siegel.

**A/N **

**I know -- surprise -- that was quick -- but you poor readers were so confused I buckled down to get this out to you ASAP. **

**We are coming to a resolution soon. Perhaps this chapter will make more sense. if not, I apologize. If you are confused AND tantalized, I've done my job.**

**--**

**23 Double L Trouble**

The Daily Planet bullpen bustles with activity, its joyous chaos a familiar balm to Kal-El's ears, as he and Lois exit the elevator. For a moment, it distracts him from the psychic turmoil brought about by a glance in a bathroom mirror.

On auto-pilot, he heads for his desk, and bumps into Jimmy, who greets him cheerily, "Hey, Mr. White."

Noting the odd fact that Jimmy seems taller, Kal glances around for Richard -- and comes face to face with himself instead. _Clark, without glasses. A rather suave Clark, in pinstripes and tie, not acting like a dork. _

The non-glasses-wearing Clark flashes a decided smirk, and punches Kal-El's shoulder. "Hey, Richard… forget your glasses, man? This is my desk.

_Correct that, definitely acting like a dork._

Lois grabs his arm with a rush of intensity. _Her heart rate just shot through the roof. _

_I__ have my powers. I'm still… Superman, but I'm Richard, too?_

Dragging Kal-El forward, Lois subvocalizes, **"Holy cow, 'Tropolis, you forgot your ****glasses****? Is there a chunk of green K. lodged somewhere I don't know about? You haven't been yourself all morning."** Then for the looky-loos, she chirps, "Richard. Come on, let's get your stuff; we have to move it into the new office."

As they tumble into the Assistant Editor's expansive corner office, Perry turns from the window with an unusual smile gracing his craggy features. A smile that makes Kal know he's landed on Planet Weird.

"Ah, son – hope you like the office. Check out the easy-release window. I think it's super -- _did he just wink at me? -- _and, will prove to be an improved base of operations, m'boy."

Lois crosses her arms and rolls her eyes. "Did you get it bug and sound proofed as we suggested?"

"Like it was your idea, Lane. Ricky, here, has been my responsibility since his mother and I spirited him out of that crater in Metropolis Park. And, I think we've done fine since then – right, son?"

"Um, sure… dad." _Ricky?_

Rushing around like it was Christmas, and he was Santa, Perry tugs a cord to pull aside some make-shift curtains covering the window walls overlooking the Bullpen. "I tricked it out with 2-way glass."

As the curtains part, the trio sees Hermione, from the fashion beat, adjusting herself in her new-found reflection, and Gil inspecting his nose hairs.

Lois casts the stink-eye at Perry. "Blinds."

Kal-El stifles a hiccup as Perry responds, "Check."

A crash resounds out in the bullpen, drawing Kal's attention from the family feud. A tentative knock on the glass door, and he lets Jimmy in, carrying a huge framed print.

"So, Mr. Richard… um- White. I thought an office-warming gift would be nice – um, I had it enlarged. Where would you like the photo of you at the llama rodeo?"

The now-familiar darkness, fierce speed and silence of the transition give him a moment to think.

_S__omething odd, something I'm missing…_

The sweet scent of his offspring fills his mind, and he realizes he is flying with Jason in his arms, sobbing into his daddy's neck, his words muffled by baby spit and sorrow.

"I couldn't turn it off daddy."

_I was here before…_

The ruins of the Kent farm loom in Clark's view as he speeds to find his mother. Smoke mixed with the scent of blood fills the air, and the acrid -- yet familiar -- odour heralds his worst fear.

"Mom?"

"MOTHER!!"

"Sh… sh…ell… bee," Jason's tiny wail trails him as he flies from Clark's arms to a smouldering form by the hay barn.

_Flies__? _

Blinking through his tears, Clark realizes the conflagration has destroyed only the barn. The smoke and flames simply obliterate the view of the house, untouched, but still threatened by the pyre.

"Jason, get back."

Moving quickly, running in a spiral, and rocketing straight up, Clark suctions the air from the flames -- putting it out in an instant. A shot of super-cool breath stops the smoke, and the air clears -- revealing his mother, on the porch, wringing her hands in her apron. "Son, what happened? What have I told you about using your heat vision near the barn?

Choking back his fear, Clark speeds to her side, "Mom, what happened here?"

A blank look from Martha, and sudden tears, startle Clark into realization. "I don't know – did I do something wrong? Was there a fire? Shelby? Where are you, boy?"

Crouched by the blackened four-legged form, Jason sobs. "Daddy, I killed Shelby."

Sharply aware of his mothers need for reassurance, Clark stays by her side, turning his head to direct his x-ray vision on the still, charred remains of the animal. "Jason, that isn't Shelby. It's a coyote. It must have been hiding in the barn when it went up. Thank God, it was the hay barn. With any luck, Shelby…"

"SHEL—BYYY !!"

Jason's shrill cry manages to startle Clark, focused on his mother. However, the sight of the old dog tackling Jason, and the two of them rolling in the dirt, wakes Martha from her fugue, and she laughs out loud.

A rustling in the grass behind Clark causes Martha to turn. Her bright eyes sparkle, and Clark can't help but follow her joyous line of sight. Her voice sends shivers up his spine.

"Oh, look dear… the llama survived too."

Darkness, speed, silence, familiarity, pattern…

_T__here is a pattern here. What is it? Is this why I have not travelled to the PAST? _

Row upon row of tiny figures. _little soldiers_

Dark wood against his hand – wood, smooth from meticulous polishing. The scent of expensive oils assails Clark's sensitive nostrils -- pleasant, familiar, and almost intoxicating.

_That__ scent… someone I know._

Now accustomed to the wrenching lurch into the alternate realities, Clark thinks there is no way he can be surprised, but nothing prepares him for the youthful figure smiling openly at him across an antique war-games table. The sunlight-glint of dust motes give the twenty-one year old Lex Luthor an angelic air, that Clark finds startling and completely unexpected.

When his enemy speaks, Lex's voice is melodious and curious, without a hint of the future cynicism.

"Clark… do you believe a man can fly?"

The last son of Krypton stands, gripping the mahogany table edge as if it will bind him to reality. In his mind, he knows the authenticity may be fleeting. He does not answer Luthor's question, rather, he raises his eyebrows, and tilts his head to fill the space left by his lack of response.

Lex pauses, and then completes the conversation, "I do… After the crash, I saw myself… in the water -- from above. And, when I awoke and I saw you there, I knew you'd saved me for a purpose.

"Luthor. I saved you." Clark's hears his own voice, but something is… different.

"Why yes, Clark, Lex Luthor. Call me Lex. I'd hoped the fact that you saved me from a watery death, would allow us to eschew the formality of surnames."

"Lex."

_So young__._

Still holding onto the edge, Clark moves around the table to face Lex – to look in his eyes. To try to gauge intent -- and catches his own reflection in the Cheval mirror near the window.

_My __God, I must be… seventeen – or younger._

Lex takes a step forward, and places a warm hand on Clark's shoulder. His eyes search the other's with an earnest question. Clark finds himself flummoxed by the possibilities in those grey orbs.

_What if… __we'd been friends? Could I protect him from… his fate? It could change EVERYTHING._

"Clark. You know you can tell me anything…"

The pressure from Lex's hand increases by increments, until Clark guesses he should flinch. He chooses not to, and, finally, Lex softens his grip, giving the shoulder a little friendly shake. "Tell me. You know you want to."

Clark does not break eye contact and they stand as statues until Lex looks down and to the side. "How did you survive a sixty mile per hour impact?" when he looks at Clark again, his eyes are changed.

_T__here it is – the need to know, the desire to __own__._

The overriding passion that will be his downfall -- of spirit and heart -- exposed on Lex's fresh young face, makes Clark mourn the loss of a friendship he never had.

Stepping away from the hand, which leaves a burning sensation in its place, Clark gazes through the ancient leaden window, wondering where and when they are, here in some mysterious castle.

He sees the rolling gardens, and uses his telescopic vision to focus in on some large animals, grazing.

He smiles.

"I'm sorry Lex, you've lost me – can we go feed the llamas now?"

Darkness, blinding speed – to a sudden stop

then… light, sublime uber-white light, and a voice that tears through his being.

"**Enough." **

"**Kal-El, Clark Kent, you must choose. End this." **

**TBC**

**Please take a moment to review -- I need to know what you think...**


	24. Reality

A/N

Yes, I'm back -- thought I'd better update before the new year or risk losing Everyone who has ever read this story! Thanks for hanging on -- if you are still here, then you must be a patient person -- hope this holds you for a bit :)

The usual disclaimers -- to my great sadness and lack of wish-fulfillment.

**24 Reality**

The light is blinding, but he knows he can't avoid hitting it, absorbing it -- allowing it to absorb him.

He knows in his gut that this is true, real… NOW.

_I should have known… who else could it be? _He tries to arm his words with strength – strength he doesn't feel --"Father?"

A voice, both booming and a whisper -- in his mind, and inhabiting his being -- responds with an answer he does not expect, but realizes he has always known.

"Yes… 'Father', but I am neither the One you call Jor- El, nor am I Jonathan."

Unwilling to accept the, now obvious, truth -- for fear of losing his mind to the simplicity of it, Clark attempts to ground himself in his known reality.

_The AI? Wait, this is __not_ _the Fortress._

The same soothing voice, filled with light and brilliance, answers him, "No Kal-el, you are no longer in the material realm. I have extracted you for a time."

_My thoughts —- it, he… hears them. Oh, God._

"Or… any name you like, child, except those names given to the Other –- the one who turned his back on me, and thwarts my plan."

Clark's hand goes to his throat, where his words catch, and his flannel shirt tickles his fingertips with comforting familiarity. He looks down to see Shelby by his side nuzzling his jeans. He crouches to bury his hand in the large dog's wooly coat. Shelby's soft warmth is as real as Clark's pounding heart, and it calms him enough to ask his next question aloud. "But, why me? Where do I fit in?"

Above, in the wide-open sky, the rolling clouds stop motion as if in answer to his whispered query.

Fearful, Clark looks back across the cornfield, and sees Ben walking toward him, speaking words in Ben's voice –words that Ben would never say, "Kal-El, did you think I would allow you to alter the fabric of time for a whim? Lois Lane has much more to accomplish in the grand scheme. I could not allow the Other to cut short her journey to please a whim of a minion."

Clark's heart freezes, and, unbidden, a name slips out with his breath, "Lex Luthor."

A fearful, hideous thought overcomes the lone Kryptonian -- a shudder traveling down to feet bonded to borrowed homeland, belying his ability to fly.

"The… Other… did he destroy Krypton?"

Before Kal's eyes, his homeworld appears. The accompanying apparition of Jor-El speaks with his voice, but looks unlike any image of his biological father that Kal-El has ever seen; his visage painted with human sorrow and regret – and love for his offspring.

"No, my child, Krypton's sun exploded; it was simple nature, or physics, as you call it. The people were stubborn and willful, and should have evacuated. I have mourned their decision for the eons since."

Slow, inevitable realization flows through Clark, like cold farm-fresh milk downed from the bottle. Chill, and thorough -- invading his deepest parts with pure white clarity.

"If you are… God, then you are all-seeing, all-knowing. Why not… unmake the… Other? He killed my family… my homeworld!"

The silence, loud as thunder, and then the voice, silver fire lightningm slices to the truth.

"Ah, Kal-El. As my child, you should know I cannot destroy anything – I only create. Destruction is his desire."

World-weary, Clark shuffles to sit on his porch steps, where Shelby licks his hand, and nuzzles the tears on his cheeks, "I still don't understand…. Why did Krypton have to die?"

The screen door opens, and Martha Kent comes out to settle herself beside him. Before speaking, she turns to Shelby and, with a sigh, ruffles the old dogs ears.

Clark looks into his mother's eyes, and her voice is a balm to his soul, "Oh, Clark, that was very difficult for me. All children are mine, including those of Krypton. They are all created in my image, and from my heart, but I have a plan of which no human can conceive."

An expression of pure pain darkens Kal-El's eyes, and he turns from the changeling apparition, "You are wrong, I am not human."

Out of the corner of his eye, a tiny hand reaches to touch his cheek, and he turns into the touch. Jason sits cuddled up to him, and when he speaks, his baby voice makes an odd, yet somehow perfect, counterpoint to His unshakable message, "Ah, what is human, child? This is another question mired in semantics, which your simple and pure existence cannot discern. You are human, Kal-El, just shaped for a different home-world."

Jason disappears, his baby-scent lingering, and Clark stands up, wiping away his tears. He asks in a whisper, already knowing the answer, "Why did you not save them? I don't know… force them to see their mistake."

In answer, Kal-El sees Krypton. Spectacular visions of flying cars, in a virtual city-paradise, meld with images of scientists in fantastic laboratories -- where genetics experiments with horrible creations languish in stasis chambers. A woman he does not recognize, dressed in Kryptonian garb, walks toward him. When she speaks, he hears the tones of his biological mother, Lara.

"What some of your religions call free will – another concept you cannot conceive in entirety. I cannot explain any more, you are too upset. My heart breaks for you, my child. It will, forever."

_All of my homeworld dies, but Lois must live. Why? It doesn't make sense. _

"_Trust me, my son. My daughter, Lois, must live, but – don't speak — I know your thoughts, your mother must also --"_

"_-- Have… Alzheimer's."_

Clark looks down at Shelby and the dog's face glows with his unconditional love. The words he hears in his mind may as well be Shelby's words as anyone's.

"_Kal-El, I __will__ tell you this – there is no disease Alzheimer's as such, just an altered perception of life, combined with your limited ability to identify with it. Listen to her, and look closely – her feelings are naked and near to my heart – at this moment, she is the most precious of my children, innocent and vulnerable. How you deal with __this__ challenge scribes your destiny."_

"But, your plan… it takes away my free will. I am a puppet without a choice."

"Ah, they always misunderstand. Talk to Ben. Ask him what the best teachers do. What he tells you will help show you the way. You are a teacher, Superman, a role model, for your friends -- and for humanity – but, so is Lois; as is every one of my children."

A sense of falling. Words echoing.

"As a child, you have choices. The difficulty is making the right ones -- choices that lead to life rather than death, creation versus destruction, compassion over chaos."

Landing like a stone, Clark stumbles his way to his mother's house, x-raying as he runs, fearful of the possibilities – yet desirous that this be HOME. He sees Ben in the kitchen, by the sink -- helping Martha wash up, Jason sitting by them.

"Jason, Mom, Ben – I need to stop – help me stop."

"Dear, whatever do you mean?" Martha's innocent question halts Clark in his tracks. He realizes he has stopped --that it is over.

He doesn't miss Ben's stern look, and miniscule head shake, _not now. _Clark calms himself, drinking in Jason's bright eyes questioning his breathless entrance. Willing himself not to crush the banister in his grip, Clark freezes, frightened to speak, lest he break this spell -- and this reality fades like all the others before. How long has he been swimming through time, and filtering through dimensions and possibilities?

He feels like it has been forever.

"How long have I been gone, Ben?"

"About a half-hour, Son."

Stunned, Clark summons otherworldly control to keep from blurting out his fears and revelations to this simple man -- who cares about his family so much, but can't help but blurt, "And… everything is… the same?"

_Stupid question…__ how would he know if it was diff --_

A poignant glance at his mother allows Clark to read Ben's mind. "Pretty much, son."

Clark pulls a kitchen chair up and sits, looking around at his family. "I know, now… I can't change things -- that I never did change anything. I was fated to save Lois – it was all meant to happen."

A tiny voice pipes up, and Clark is drawn to his son's longing look, "Dad? Is mom okay? I want to see her."

"She's OK, Munchkin. We'll see her soon. Why don't you go wash up for bed, and I'll come up to tuck you in."

"What did you tell him, Ben?"

"He thinks she's asleep – like… a coma, but not so serious. We'll have to tell him eventually."

Clark follows Jason's tiny form with his eyes as he bounds up the stairs, and he sighs, "I just hope we won't have to tell him that his mother doesn't remember him."

TBC

-- as one of my dear fellow fanfic writers has already quoted - "reviews are love"


	25. Human

A/N

As usual, it has been a very long time since my last chapter -- but for you who are still reading, I hope this pleases:)

Disclaimer: Superman and his fellow characters are the property of Warner Bros. Studios and DC Comics, and created by Joe Shuster and Jerry Siegel.

**25 Human**

For the next week, Clark hides out at his mother's farm, leaving only to visit Lois and respond to dire emergencies. The serendipity of Perry divining his secret no longer a mystery, but a gift – allowing Kent, Star Reporter, a break without worry.

Martha, for the most part, is still herself, making three course meals and apple pies, but sometimes, she forgets about Jason, and at other times, mistakes him for Clark.

He doesn't know if he can get used to that, and he knows it is just the beginning.

He feels helpless, and all his otherworldly powers make his helplessness complete. His mother has been given the worst diagnosis imaginable – a diagnosis of life – a life without parole. Day by day, hour by hour, her life will slip away. Her experiences, her memory, will fall from her fingers like cake crumbs -- as she speaks, as she breathes. Her day will cease to exist, with only the moment remaining -- a moment without context, without meaning, without purpose or intent. The sole kindness being that she will not know the difference.

Her loved ones – Clark, Ben, and Jason - witness the progression, the slow descent, into the solitary living moment of existence. It will be as if she had always been this way. To her, one emotion will last forever – joy, sadness, depression, elation. Whatever her day gives her, moment-by-moment, she will live it forever in her mind. The depth will be endless, and the experience complete.

Clark works very hard to make most of her moments good – to keep her contented, to avoid the confusion that can send her on a spiral into black depression. For, even though her deep sadness lasts a mere ten minutes until itself lost with memory, for that span of time her mind is disarrayed and lost in bedlam.

"Here Mom… listen to your music," he says. He puts on her favourite – Vera Lynn – takes her hand, and, for the length of a song, she dances away from the torturing sadness – back to a time when Jonathan was there and life was as it should be.

Clark watches Ben suffer those happy moments, knowing he is nothing to her in them – even when she takes his hand, to dance to her music, he knows she feels Jonathans rough fingers, and sees her husbands face. He winces when she calls the wrong name while looking in his eyes. Ben and Clark bear the pain, knowing hers is worse, knowing hers is the confusion and loss – not of self, but of knowledge of self.

The warm evening breeze brings the crickets serenade past the faded floral curtains and into the room. Curtains Martha stitched together on her tiny portable Singer machine in the spare room, while Clark, bundled on the bed beside her, traced flowers with baby fingers and inspected pastel threads with tiny alien eyes.

Basking in the late summer's scents and mysteries, Clark sinks into his dad's favourite chair, his mother gone to bed -- baby monitor by her side. His extraordinary senses serve better than the 80 dollar Sears mail-order gadget, and the squawking baby blue blob of plastic with its cascade of red light offends his senses. Ben sleeps in the spare room, since the night she awakened scared and confused by the stranger in her bed. The look in Ben's eyes, when Clark grabs the monitor, stops him before he can disconnect the plug from the wall. The older man's love for Martha is in those eyes, softening, warming, transforming their colour -- even their texture. Clark assumes it is his natural ability to see auras and read emotions, and he doesn't have to ask Ben why he would rather the monitor stay right where it is, why its presence is a comfort to this man, why it keeps his love close to him in the long night.

These days, Clark spends mornings tending to chores and playing with his son. Jason stops asking about his mother, his childish wisdom trusting Dad to decide when Mommy will be ready to see him.

In the afternoon, Clark helps his own mother decipher her day. In the evenings, while Martha slumbers on the porch swing, he unwinds with Ben's amiable company. At night, he lays awake, staring at the stuck-on stars of his home galaxy, trying to put his earth life in perspective.

_Human__. I am… human._

On autopilot, Clark's daily trips to the hospital pass in a dreamlike state, to make up for the restless nights. Even with his super-metabolism, even with his need for less sleep than the average human -- two hours total per night -- he feels drained and lethargic each morning.

On this day, he walks through the hospital entrance and nods at the receptionist with a tired smile.

_Her name is__… Carol. I pulled her from a car crash… 3 years ago? No, further back -- one of my first rescues… _

Carol returns Clark's smile, but fails to recognize her rescuer in the rumpled visitor in the scruffy suit.

After a dazed ride, in an elevator redolent of antiseptic, Clark enters Lois's room and is pleased to find her relaxing in a chair by the window. Wrapped in one of Martha's quilts, her hands rustle the newness out of this morning's copy of the Planet. She adjusts her reading glasses on her nose and grabs for the red pen shoved behind her ear.

Clark thinks he's never seen her more beautiful.

He makes a small throat sound to avoid startling her, but the look she throws him is expectant and sharp. One eyebrow raises, and she peruses him over the rim of her glasses.

Clark senses she is eyeing the fedora he found at the Smallville Salvation Army store. A hat seemed a good idea at the time, since he thought further disguise might be astute. After all, the horn-rims didn't fool Perry for long and, now, perhaps Jimmy has seen through the lenses to the truth.

He drags the battered fedora off his head, gripping the brim with both hands. "Lois, you're up. How are you feeling?"

Tilting her head, she pulls off the glasses and, with a little shake of her head, she squints at his hands.

"I'm okay – I think I'm remembering some… remembering -– at least, I'm starting to realize that I have things I should… remember."

She continues to watch Clark's hands as they knead the hat brim like bread dough. Realizing that he is about to manipulate his new costume piece into a misshapen mass, he clasps the brim between thumb and forefinger and balances it on her bed tray table, punctuating his movement with his answer. "Really. Well, that's wonderful. Um."

"So… what's with the hat?"

Resting beside the fedora, Lois's empty milk carton gives it a raspberry with its bendy straw tongue. Clark wonders why no one likes his hat.

"Oh, I uh, thought I could put my press pass… in… the… band -- No?"

"No. Lose it. You got that second-hand too, didn't you?"

"Guilty as charged."

"C'mere – you need your scalp examined."

"Don't you mean I need my head examined? Lois, I don't have your fashion sense, but…"

"Head, scalp whatever – dump that hat and get over here, Smallville. Do I have to get up?"

"No Ma'am."

Clark gives the decrepit felt hat a final fond look and drops it in the trashcan at the door. Unable to resist her plea to come closer, Clark shuffles toward the window and stops between the edge of the bed and Lois's knees. Knees wrapped in his mother's country quilt – the combination, with Lois's unassuming air, intoxicating to Clark's senses.

Lois grabs his arm, yanking him from his eiderdown duvet fantasy to a sitting position on the edge of the bed; she clutches his shoulders, drawing him to her.

Their faces mere inches apart, Clark soaks up her two-tone gaze like morning sunlight. _I am so addicted to this woman._ Forcing himself to think, Clark plays the shy reporter part and shifts his eyes, Lois's proximity bringing a blush, unbidden, to his cheeks.

"Look down, Clark."

"What?"

"Look at my lap."

"Your lap?" Clark squeaks.

"Do it."

His head dips down and Clark wonders what Lois's game is, until a childhood memory sneaks to the surface. _The nurse at school -- the long pick and the fine-tooth comb -- under blinding lamplight. _

"Lois – d…do you think I have LICE?"

_As if__ I could – the little buggers couldn't pierce my skin…_

"Clark, you bought a grungy hat from a thrift shop and plunked it on your head – stop squirming."

Clark relaxes under her ministrations, until Lois sits back and looks at him with a smile.

"Am I ok? No unwanted friends?"

"Clear of cooties, I'm happy to say."

"Can I have my hat back?

"NO. Clark, NO ONE wears hats -- except teenagers and people who are trying too hard. Your suits are enough of a strain on my eyes – give me a break, ok?"

Straightening up, Clark gets a faraway look

"Look, I… know about you, Clark."

"What? Oh," flushed with the anticipation of possibility, Clark's knees weaken, and he wills himself not to float toward her bed.

"Yes. Well, Jimmy filled me in, really. I had suspicions and…"

"Jimmy."

_I wondered if __Jimmy… Why did he not…? _"Jimmy? So… what did our favourite photographer say? I can't imagine what he could say about me, Lois. I'm just a farm-boy from Kansas who became a journalist."

"A prize-winning journalist."

_There's__ that damn blush again – why can't I have super blush-suppressing powers -- the whole super breath thing is embarrassing enough._

"Clark… or should I say…

...................................................................................................

TBC

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	26. Sweetheart

A/N

Sorry for the wait but this last year has been a trial. My dear Mom finally succumbed to the Alzheimer's on Oct 23rd 2010. I wanted to keep her with me forever, but instead I have beautiful memories and many photos. I created a memorial page at triple w ninafortin dot blogspot dot com. If you want to meet my inspiration and the best Mother next to Martha Kent, feel free to visit her there.

Life now is very different. I am just now beinning to get story ideas again and I am wrapping up this one. This is not the last chapter, but it is mostly finished and I will post regularly till its conclusion.

Thanks for hanging in, this chapter is short, but sweet,

Kara

Disclaimer: Superman and his fellow characters are the property of Warner Bros. Studios and DC Comics, and created by Joe Shuster and Jerry Siegel.

**26 Sweetheart**

"…Sweetheart," Lois breathes…

Of all the possible names Clark imagines Lois calling him, an endearment is not one. His tongue shrivels and he realizes his mouth is hanging open. He brings his lips together and dry-swallows. "Lois? Clark here -– boring, farm boy, Clark - your willing doormat… Clark."

Lois smiles slowly, looking Clark up and down. "Yes - dependable, not boring; rustic and rugged, farm boy. Doormat? Do I treat you so callously – I'm sorry. You've been so good to me – visiting often – so patient; so… loving.

Frozen in the moment, in the austere cool of the hospital room, Clark feels the heat as if he was looking into the sun. And, to his amazement, Lois continues to speak.

"Clark, I know you have a crush on me… Oh, Sweetie… do you know you do? You can relax – I like you too – in THAT way."

Confused and elated, Clark's eyes widen with fear. "Lois? Maybe I should get… the doctor. You aren't making any sense; did you hit your head on the way back from the bathroom?"

Clark winces _– stupid - nothing wrong with her legs. Definitely nothing wrong. With. Legs. _

_FOCUS, KENT._

Amused, Lois watches Clark fumble and hums a negative. "Uh-uh."

_I can't __tell her __now__ – if Jason were here, he'd say she was a Xbox with 3 flashing lights and that revealing my true identity might wipe any savegames she has left._

_Jimmy__!_

Raising his eyebrows and slowing his heartrate, Clark makes a wild guess. "A crush, huh? That's what Jimmy told you? That… I… frankly, Lois, I'm shocked he -"

"- Would tell me? Lois replies, with a coy grin.

"No – that he would think that – I've – just - been so concerned about your health."

Lois's sudden embarrassment whitewashes her complexion.

"You don't feel for me… oh my Gosh, I'll kill him."

Clark is transfixed by an eyes-a-blazing hellfire Lane with hospital-translucent skin. _So beautiful…_

A minute passes.

Weary of waiting for Clark to snap out of his trance, Lois drops her subterfuge. "Um Clark… uh, April fools."

Super-speed to the rescue. Parry to her thrust. "Lois, it's August."

"Yes, Clark, I know what month it is. I even know what year it is. I'm remembering that much. Lois shakes the Daily Planet at him. …And, I have today's paper."

"Right. April fools —- got it, Lois. Gee, your memory is coming back – you know you can always pull the wool over this country boy's eyes."

Lois's eyes already dropped to the paper, she slips her glasses back on and mutters her automatic response, "Right on, Smallville."

In the hospital elevator, Clark rides the way down to the lobby, no energy left in him to make any other escape, he ponders his choices.

_That was all so a__wkward… and unnecessary – I have to tell her_.

TBC

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